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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23054167">Mint and apricots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonRiver16/pseuds/LondonRiver16'>LondonRiver16</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abused Sam Winchester, Abusive Lucifer (Supernatural), Angst, Daddy issues all the way, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic Violence, Everyone Is Gay, Family Drama, Hurt Sam Winchester, John Winchester Tries, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Possessive Lucifer, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Gabriel (Supernatural), Sabriel - Relationship - Freeform, Samifer - Relationship, Stubborn Sam Winchester, alternative universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:28:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>128,528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23054167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonRiver16/pseuds/LondonRiver16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>From that fateful day, Sam was more careful. He didn't want to worry Luc. He followed his rules diligently, certain that they were a sign of his love. Occasionally, however, he fell into error. And Luc was not particularly prone to forgiveness, if not preceded by the consequences of any disappointment.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Lucifer/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>232</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The first time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>When Sam left <em>The Rebel Heart</em>, the pub where he had spent the last four hours of that Saturday night, the smile he had printed on his face went from ear to ear. It had been a long time since he had felt so elated. On the other hand, years had passed since the last time he had had the opportunity to spend quality time with his old university classmates and that evening had been completely improvised. Seeing them, talking to them and getting updates about their lives had been so overwhelming that Sam had forgotten to check the clock until the owner of the pub had pointed out – with extreme kindness, by the way – that the place would have had to close its doors half an hour before.</p><p>Only then did Sam realize how long he had let time slip away along with the hands of the clock. So he had quickly finished the fries that had accompanied his veggie burger and had taken down the last few sips of his third beer before warmly taking leave of his friends, unwillingly refusing their offer to move to another pub.</p><p>"Sorry, guys, but I have someone waiting for me at home" he explained with a sweet smile. "In fact, the next time you stop by, ring me first, so we can plan ahead and I’ll introduce him to you."</p><p>It took Sam more than half an hour to reach the apartment where he lived with his boyfriend. He could have taken a taxi – surely Luc would have opted to call one – but the sparkling memories of the evening he had just spent and all the malt-flavored alcohol he had swallowed kept him company during the walk, keeping his body warm and his mind cheerful. What an unexpected day.</p><p>Arriving in front of the house – an independent, little villa with a few square meters of garden on the front, a luxury he could never have afforded in an area so close to the center – he whistled down the path and went up hopping the three steps that led to the door. Without ceasing to hum a tune that his friends had put in his head, he rummaged in the pockets of the heavy winter jacket in search of the keys and finally approached the lock with a jingle.</p><p>He fell silent at the thought that, at that time of the night, his partner had every right not to be awakened by his disruptive joy. Then he pushed and closed the door slowly, left his coaton one of the available hooks and his shoes on the entrance mat and proceeded on tiptoe along the corridor. It was only when the base of the stairs was no more than a meter away that he noticed a glimmer of light filtering from under the kitchen door. He then stopped, frowning.</p><p><em>Luc </em> <em>must have forgotten</em> <em> to turn it off</em>, he concluded, and then entered the kitchen with the intention of making up for it.</p><p>Not expecting anyone, he had a blow to his heart when he realized that one of the chairs in the adjacent dining room was occupied. He held his breath suddenly and brought a hand to his chest, but immediately afterwards he recognized the features of that immobile figure and a giggle of relief escaped from his lips.</p><p>"My God, Luc," he panted, shaking his head in amusement. “I think I'm getting old. You scared me to death.”</p><p>For one more moment, Luc did not move and Sam thought that he had dozed off at the table. Which he wouldn't mind, because he loved watching him when he wasn't aware of it. Luc Benson – whose parents had had the unwary idea of baptizing with the inauspicious name of Lucifer – was a thirty-one year old who was aware of his charm. In particular, he was able to read and translate every drop of admiration and desire that shone in Sam Winchester's eyes. Sam was a few years younger than him – they would have been twenty-seven in May, once he survived the winter – and had only lived under his roof for a few weeks, but he still hadn't got used to the thrill of sleeping, breathing and fucking in the same bed as Luc. With Luc. His Luc.</p><p>A movement from the boy roused him from his thoughts. Luc ran a finger along the chiseled wood of the dining table before standing in one fluid motion. Sam had time to notice his gravy-stained shirt, but somehow passed beyond the shadows of his gaze.</p><p>"I scared you, uh?" the eldest considered, taking a few steps towards him before stopping and crossing his arms. “What about you tell me where you've been?”</p><p>If Sam had not been so inebriated by the reunion with his old friends, that tone would have been enough to get his full attention.</p><p>“If you only knew!” he exclaimed joyfully instead, going to take a glass from the cupboard and then filling it with water at the sink. “I saw Tommy and Mara again! I had no idea they were in town, but apparently they took a few days off and Sioux Falls was on the way. They made me a surprise at work! God, I can't tell you how nice it was to see them again ...” he said quickly, and then swallowed all the water. He was about to pour some more when he realized that there was something strange in the way his boyfriend was looking at him, something unnatural in his static nature. “Luc? Is everything alright?”</p><p>He only needed to meet his boyfriend’s ocean-colored eyes again to understand that it was no coincidence that his partner had stayed at the kitchen table until late. A lump formed in his throat. But it was too late now: he would have had to bow his head and suffer the sermon he deserved.</p><p>“No, it's not all right. I had no idea where you were. You didn't call me or send me a message or anything” the other pointed out, before snapping his arm towards him in a nervous movement. “Was it too hard to check your damned phone and warn me that you would have been out until two in the morning?”</p><p>The lump in Sam's throat went down to the mouth of his stomach and turned into the burning of guilt.</p><p>“Oh” he swallowed, looking down to the ground. “Hell, I forgot. I meant to text you, but they caught me off guard and then time flew by. You're right, Luc. I'm sorry if I made you worry.”</p><p>The silence that followed lasted too long. So much that, after waiting for several seconds, Sam returned his gaze to his boyfriend with raised eyebrows, wondering what was going on in his head. Now Luc was staring at the ground, one elbow supported by the other arm and his chin resting on his closed fist. Sam was about to ask him what was wrong with him, when the light-haired onefound his voice again.</p><p>“You’re sorry.”</p><p>His tone was low and seemed to come from miles away, miles to go underground, in the dark, but Sam didn’t pay much attention to it. He was so relieved that the other one had finally said something that he rushed to nod, mortified for what had happened, while his fingers ran to fix his locksof brown hair behind his ears.</p><p>“Yes, very. I...”</p><p>He did not notice that Luc had erased the space that separated them with a few quick steps, he didn’t realize how close he was until he found his face forty centimeters from his own. He gasped, surprised, and parted his lips to add something, but he didn't have the time to. The impact of Luc's open palm on his cheek was more violent than any slap his father had ever given him and made him cry in surprise and, only a second later, because of pain.</p><p>Sam sat down with his back against the wall and his sight obscured. Shocked, he brought his hand to the affected spot and felt the heat. When he found the courage to go looking for his partner’s eyes, he withdrew a little more against the wall, frightened. Later on he would have convinced himself that he could have reacted if Luc hadn't had that look. The gaze of those who have no intention of apologizing, of those who had premeditated that gesture and were ready to underline it. It hadn't been a mistake: Luc had decided to punish him before Sam set foot in the house.</p><p>Sam wanted to say something, but his voice seemed to have dried in his throat. Halfway between a protest and a hiccup, he remained silent because in reality he could not help but see his own fault. How could he have acted so lightly, without worrying about what Luc would have thought not seeing him come home after work?</p><p>The flow of his thoughts stopped suddenly when Luc leaned over him and squeezed his face with his right hand, planting each finger in his cheeks.</p><p>“Next time, I won’t let you off so easily. Make me wait for you once again with this anguish and I...” he hissed, reaching a growl before letting Sam go with an angry motion and returning to incinerate him with his eyes from above. “You won't like it, Sam. You won't like it at all. Then, I can assure you, you will be truly sorry.”</p><p>He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and a moment later Sam felt pierced by the discomfort reflected in the eyes in which he had immersed himself with full confidence since the very first exchange of glances.</p><p>“Tonight you really, really disappointed me, Sam.”</p><p>Luc did not give him time to recover from that sentence. After breaking his heart, the thirty-one year old turned his back on him and left the kitchen. Sam was still catching his breath when he heard his determined steps begin to climb the stairs leading upstairs.</p><p>"Luc," he managed to pull out of his throat at that point, propping himself up on one hand to get back on his feet. “Luc, wait!”</p><p>Desperate at the idea of having to live with the echo of that phrase in his head all night, he rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs.</p><p>“Luc, wait a minute... forgive me... please, Luc!”</p><p>Somewhere above him, the door of the landlord's study closed with a dry thud. Sam collapsed on the stairs, devastated, and stayed there for a few minutes before finding the strength to drag himself to the top and then to the bedroom. Trying in vain to silence his sobs, then, he changed for the night, getting rid of his jeans and plaid shirt to replace them with a soft shirt and a pair of sweatpants.</p><p>He went to bed, under the covers, looking at the door, hoping to see Luc arrive and to be able to ask him for forgiveness in the safe intimacy of the sheets, where he did not believe that his boyfriend could have told him another no. But the house remained silent and motionless until Sam fell asleep with his cheeks streaked with tears.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello, everybody!<br/>This story has been keeping me company for a while now, so I decided I could try and offer it to you and your judgement, hoping you'll like it. I would be so grateful if you let me know through kudos and/or comments, I always love when we get in touch.<br/>Till next time - or till I answer to your comment - take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The new rules</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>The next morning, Sam woke up with a shiver running</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> up his spine. The room was lit by the cold winter light and drafts of icy air </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>had </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>filtered through the </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>semi-open </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>window </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>and</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> slipped under the boy's pajamas. Sam rubbed his eyes with a slight groan</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> and stretched his arms and legs, but he turned to the other side of the bed as soon as the memory of what </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>had</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> happened a few hours earlier</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> caught him unprepared, taking his breath away.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>The spot</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> next to his was empty and the twentysix-year-old wouldn't even have been able to say for sure if Luc had slept there or not. Sam had always had a</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>restless sleep, but at night Luc looked like a dead man and in the morning he wriggled the pillow as soon as he got up, leaving little if any trace of his passing.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>However, the house was so quiet that it seemed to Sam like</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> he had a block of ice in his stomach. He couldn't go on without Luc's forgiveness, he simply couldn't. As he sat up and groped for his underwear</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> on the floor, he found himself praying that his partner had not gone out early. Not out of anger, at least, or it would have been a terrible Sunday to spend.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>Before going to the bathroom, Sam replied to the messages he found on Whatsapp: some pictures</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> of the night before sent to him by Tommy and the invitation to an afternoon walk by his brother and Cas. Without thinking too much, he replied enthusiastically to both. When he found himself in front of the bathroom mirror and noticed a small dark bruise on his cheekbone, he made a mental note to find something to cover it before Dean had the opportunity to notice it. His brother always tended to make a big mess about every little thing. Sam </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>could have decided to spend a week</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> explaining it to him, Dean surely wouldn't have realized it wasn't Luc's fault. He would have </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>been</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> stubborn </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>as usual.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>It was by clinging to that belief that Sam found the strength to go downstairs. If he was aware that he was guilty, Luc could not have denied him his forgiveness. Right?</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>But the kitchen and dining room were also deserted. The sleek and shiny furniture returned Sam's demeaning look and somehow convinced him that he had nothing better to do than put something in his stomach. With slow and discouraged movements, therefore, the boy got</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> a large cup and a spoon and dragged the milk can and the cereal box on the table, sitting down with the joy of life of an eleven-year-old who had just been ordered to sit still</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> and keep quiet while all his friends played</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> a few steps away from him.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>Several minutes had passed – Sam was halfway through the second bowl full of corn flakes – when he finally heard the </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>main </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>door open. At first the boy</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> froze on the spot and blamed his own inadequacy. But when Luc appeared </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>on the kitchen doorway, he couldn't help but turn to him and look at him as a beaten puppy – </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>and</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> he didn't need to force </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>that look. His lips trembled. He could not say a </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>single word</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> about everything he had prepared by struggling over his breakfast. Luc had to be the one who</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> reached him, crouched in front of him and hugged him as if he had spent the whole night looking for him outside.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>Wrapped in that embrace, without the slightest possibility of moving, Sam closed his eyes and sank his face into the other's neck, overwhelmingly inhaling his pungent perfume. God, he had missed </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>that</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> during the</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> night. He had missed knowing that everything was fine, between them. Even at that point, however, he could not say</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> a word, because a sob had stuck in his throat. So Luc was the first to speak, without even hinting to move his arms away from </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>Sam’s</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>body.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>"You don't have the slightest</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> idea of </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>how worried I was</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> last night," he said slowly, as if he wanted every word to be branded</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> into Sam's memory.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>However, he no longer seemed to </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>be </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>boiling</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> with anger. </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>If anything, an ounce of anxiety from the night before colored his words with</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> frustration. In any case, Sam replied in a low voice, like a child who gets interrogated</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> during a rebuke, </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>a child </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>who does not know if the adult expects </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>to hear his opinion</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> or not.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“Luc, I'm sorry. I…”</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>The end of the embrace interrupted him and for an instant Sam felt like</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> dying, thinking he had taken a misstep. But as soon as their eyes were able to cross again, Luc took his face in his hands and kissed him firmly, holding his lips so long that Sam had to cling</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> to his shoulder with one hand. When Luc interrupted that kiss, his</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> eyes were made of granite, the hardness barely muffled by a half smile, but Sam's eyes glowed</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> with relief.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“And you don't even have a clue how much I love you, Sam Winchester”<span><span><span><span> Luc declared, smiling at him as if he was</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> the most precious treasure he owned.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Sam's heart skipped a beat. They had been together for almost three months </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>now </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>and Luc had never spared the use of the words "I love you" – God, it was weird enough for him to</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> have refrained from using them to convince him to go to a date</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> with him for the first time –, but Sam still </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>wasn’t</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> used to it. That man mastered something indescribable that made him feel like a kid </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>who was</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> one step away from the first kiss, clumsy and in seventh heaven, with a heart so festive that Sam often feared it</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> would not survive.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“I love you too” he replied, now emotionally liquefied to the tips of his feet.</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Accentuating his feral smile before returning serious, Luc pointed his index finger against his chest, tapping him gently and taking the opportunity to caress his arm.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“Promise me that you <span><span><span><span>will never ever again </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>make me worry</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> like that.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam nodded with too much conviction, frightened at the idea that that forgiveness could have been taken away as unexpectedly as it had fallen on him.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“Next time I'll call you right away. I promise.”</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Before he could cross</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> his heart, Luc got back</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> to smiling benevolently and got to his feet to reach the chair next to Sam's and fall on it with a pained sigh.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“I really hoped we wouldn't get to this point. But given the events of last night, it will be appropriate to write down some<span><span><span><span> rules.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam turned to him slowly, frowning.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“Rules?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Sam. Rules” Luc confirmed, raising his eyebrows and nodding eloquently. When Sam's expression veered towards <span><span><span><span>confusion, the blond</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>e</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> gave him an affectionate pat on the cheek. “Neither of us want</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>s</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> me to be forced to hit you again, okay? So we will lay down</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> the rules of this house, our rules. You will stick to them</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> and everything will be wonderful. There will be no more episodes like yesterday's.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"It was my fault," murmured Sam, who had stopped at the reference to the slap. He had lowered his gaze to the ground, but at that moment he returned to his </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>boyfriend’s</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> steady eyes and a tear rolled down </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>to </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>his chin. “I can't even imagine what I would do if I believed you </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>were </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>in danger.”</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"Oh, honey, don't do that," Luc pleaded, placing one hand on one </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>of his</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> knees</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> and the other </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>one</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> on his right</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> cheek. "That's why we're going to establish</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> a curfew to regulate</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> your outings," he went on, nodding and inducing Sam to do the same. “And I need to know where you are and with whom, if you go out on the weekend or after work.”</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Reassured by his methodical manners, Sam nodded, drying his eyes quickly.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“Okay, Luc.”</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"Very well" the thirty-one-year-old said, with the widest smile of the day. “Now drop those cereals, if you don't want to end up spilling milk on the bed.”</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam frowned again, taken aback.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“On the bed?”</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>He barely had time to see Luc bite his lower lip</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> hungrily. What seemed</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> like a blink of an eye later, Sam found himself pressed against the wall of the dining room, Luc's body pressed against his, his teeth on his lips and his hands everywhere. He moaned under</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> the assault of his kisses when the boy descended with his hand from his side to his</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> groin, sliding easily into his pajama pants. A moment later, Sam pushed his thigh between the </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>thirty-one-year-old's</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> legs, managing to take him by surprise, just enough for</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> both of them to have the time to catch</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> their breath.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"I want you," Sam gasped, clawing at Luc’s</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> back.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Luc replied with his wily, almost animalistic half smile, before clinging to his ass and going down to suck his neck.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“I want you too, Sammy. <span><span><span><span>Naked beneath me”</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> he panted, accentuating his</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> smile when he heard</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> the boy's cry of </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>appreciation. “You're going to be a good boy, aren't you, Sammy?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"Yes, Luc," Sam nodded quickly, grabbing his hand to bring it </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>back</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> between his legs.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Luc kissed him fiercely, demanding his full attention, but without denying him the contact that Sam was so desperately looking for.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“You won't disobey me anymore.”</p>
<p>“I <span><span><span><span>won’t”</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> Sam </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>pledged, closing his eyelids on the wave of a groan. “Luc, Luc ... please.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>In an instant he found himself lifted off the ground and astride his boyfriend. As much as that position ensured a pleasant friction, Sam continued to beg for more, stopping only when the impact of his back with the mattress of the double bed </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>upstairs </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>took his breath away.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>With eyes that shone with excitement as much as those of his partner, he started to stretch to get the lube and a condom from the bedside table, but Luc proved more agile and just as eager. He prepared him</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> quickly, respecting the supplications that Sam was addressing him - “Hurry up”-, and he let go of his measured calculator face only when he was finally inside him.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>In bed, Luc was... intense. He liked to do it violently. During an evening when he was particularly tipsy, Sam had confided to his brother-in-law Castiel that he had never enjoyed</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> such overwhelming orgasms before meeting that</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> boy.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>From that fateful day, Sam was more careful. He didn't want to worry Luc. He followed his rules diligently, certain that they were a </span>
        <span>sign</span>
        <span> of his love. Occasionally, however, he fell into error. He got distracted, he suffered some setbacks, something slipped from his hands.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>And things got worse. Luc was not particularly prone to forgiveness, if not preceded by the consequences of all his disappointments, but withstanding that situation – his life, now – became even more difficult for Sam when Luc's rules became more oppressive and they tightened around the his throat.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>After the incident of November 4<sup>th</sup> – Luc called him that, but all that had happened was that Sam had arrived home at 10.45 pm instead of the canonical 10.30 pm – Sam agreed with his boyfriend that it was better to limit the evening outings on weekdays, to then eventually eliminate them altogether. The marks on his arms and side, where Luc had kicked him after pushing him to the ground, had convinced Sam that it was the wisest decision.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>After another week, Luc began to insist on accompanying Sam to work every day and to pick him up at his</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> exit time. He would save on transportation </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>costs, he explained, and they could have spent more time together.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>Any activity that involved leaving the house had to be announced and approved by Luc at least twenty-four hours earlier, preferably forty-eight. Just two weeks after the first slap, Sam began to go out alone </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>only </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>for jogging. Not for nothing, but Luc would </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>have </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>never got up at five in the morning; and he didn't seem to see any danger in Sam’s</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> morning run and in the exercises that followed, especially if they kept Sam in the </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>great shape</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> that made Luc want to</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>enjoy some alone time with </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>him every</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> single night.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>Sam learned that there are different types of bruises and how long each of them takes to heal. Slaps, punches, kicks, various tools. Sam learned to cover the marks on his face, to wear long-sleeved shirts more often </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>than not </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>and to carefully evaluate the opportunity of each visit to the </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>swimming </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>pool. Most of all, however, he learned to pretend. With friends, colleagues, even with his brother. He knew that none of them would understand the way he and Luc managed their relationship. Sam was convinced of Luc's feelings and in turn loved him madly, crying for his </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>own </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>mistakes and longing for the increasingly rare but vigorous demonstrations of his affection.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>Although difficult to respect at the beginning, he began to feel safe within the enclosure of standards suggested by Luc. He was convinced that his boyfriend did it for his own good, because he wanted to know he was</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> safe, protected. And if Luc ended up getting angry, who could be to blame if not Sam? The rules were clear, crystal clear. If Luc felt the urge to punish him,</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> it was only because Sam brought him to the point of exhaustion.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> Ten minutes late leaving the library, a broken plate, the wrong cut of meat brought to the table.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“Can't you see what you're doing to me?” Luc asked him each time, crossing his arms and leaning with his shoulder against the door jamb while Sam, suffocated by sobs, cleaned himself of blood or opened the freezer to get some ice, <span><span><span><span><span>which</span></span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span><span> which he always kept ready. “Can't you see what you're forcing</span></span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span><span> me </span></span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span><span>to</span></span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span><span> do?”</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>Sam shivered</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> when he saw him in that state. He was afraid because every time he believed he had made</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> him more </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>furious </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>than the previous time and he feared that Luc would never forgive him. That </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>he </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>would end up leaving</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> him. He begged</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> him, after receiving a punch, to give him another chance, not to send him away.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>And Luc was always there for him. Luc put him back on his feet, picked him up, carried him up to the bedroom. He made love to him until Sam's heart exploded in ecstasy and then </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>he </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>held him in his arms all night </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>long, accompanying him in </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>a</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> finally peaceful sleep. The next morning, Sam felt only gratitude and started again</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> with the best intentions.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>Sam couldn’t see anything apart from</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> the blanket of fog that his partner</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> had forced down on his eyes. He believed he was lucky, he was happy. He did not realize how high his likelihood of dying in that beautiful house, at the hands of his upstanding</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span> boyfriend, </span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>
          <span>was.</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello, everybody!<br/>First of all, I'd like to thank who left kudos for the first chapter :*<br/>If you've come this far, thank you for starting reading this story! When I published the first chapter I was in such a hurry that I forgot to insert some kind of introduction.<br/>You still have a lot of chapters in front of you, but it seemed right to give you an idea of the context in which you will move, to avoid unnecessary confusion – however, if you find something unclear, feel free to ask questions about what you don't understand.<br/>For the moment, all you need to know is that the story is set in 2009, because I wanted to keep the original birth dates of our beloved Winchester brothers.<br/>Well, this story begins with dark hues that, if you got here, you will have noticed. But have faith. As a great wise man once said, "happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light".<br/>Please, let me know how you like the story so far!<br/>Take care and see you soon ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Twenty-one days, ten hours and seven minutes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>For Dean Winchester, the whole affair began with a lukewarm nervousness that slowly turned into real waves of anger, and then finally overflowed into a crisis of anger that not even his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband wanted</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to attend.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>A month and a half after moving to Luc Benson's house, Sam had cut off almost any contact with Dean. He no longer went to visit</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> him,</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> he</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> skipped appointments that had been part of their routine for years, didn’t let his brother find him</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> at home, no longer answered his calls. At most, he merely made the superhuman effort to send him a message every now and then, apparently only to pray to Dean, not </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>even </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>too subtly, to leave him alone.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>I have a lot to do this week.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Sorry, but Luc and I have been gone all weekend.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>I'm sorry I wasn't there at Cas's birthday, but I wasn't feeling very well.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Luc and I need some time for us.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>After three weeks of that story – </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>actually, to be precise, after twenty-one days, ten hours and seven minutes –, Dean decided he had had enough. At six in the afternoon, he dropped the oil leak he was working on at</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Bobby’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> garage, took a one-hour leave and set off with his Impala at a speed that would have made</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>even </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Cas </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>curse.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>It was Thursday, December 3rd. In the university library where Sam worked part-time, five hours every afternoon from Monday to Friday, the lights were turning off despite the fact that they </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>still had</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> more than half an hour before</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the usual closing time. All students </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>who were </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>involved in the preparation of the exams that would begin a few days after New Year's Eve had been warned in advance that for that day the facility would have closed</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> in the early afternoon for reasons related to the mandatory training courses </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>which were sometimes </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>organized for employees.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“I love when they make<span><span> us </span></span><span><span>attend refresher</span></span><span><span> courses! We often end up going home quite a bit earlier.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam, who was gathering up his belongings to put them in his backpack, gave a weak smile to his colleague Donna when he heard her approach and talk to him in that voice of hers that spilled joy from all pores.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, how lucky," he agreed in a modest tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He started to put his cell phone in his backpack, but eventually chose to hold it in his hand. As soon as he got out, he should have informed Luc that he was already free for the evening. Surely, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>as usual,</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his boyfriend</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> would not have wanted him to take the</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> bus, but he could have been nervous about not having been updated on that change </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>on Sam’s time schedule.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“Sam?”</p>
<p>
  <span>Called into question once again by Donna, this time Sam turned completely towards her and found himself being the object of one of her unequivocal looks as a restless friend. Sam had always thought that Donna's beauty was all in that sweetness that conquered every heart during the first two minutes of conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>She and Sam were more or less the same age and had become friends almost immediately after they </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>found themselves sharing the shift at the library reception desk two years earlier. They had spent whole nights on the small mustard-colored sofa in her apartment, telling each other about their worst love stories with the most improbable men and laughing until their stomach ached. For Sam she</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> was the closest thing to a best friend, even if most of their time together was</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> spent on the archive program or answering students' questions.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>At that moment, Donna was definitely more worried than embarrassed, but that didn't stop her from scratching her head persistently for at least five</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> seconds.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“Look, I've been wondering for a while now... is everything all right?”</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam's heart sank a few centimeters, but the boy played dumb</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and put on his best bewildered expression, raising his eyebrows.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>
  <span>Donna twisted her hands, but didn't give up.</span>
</p>
<p>“Well, for some time now I have been noticing<span><span> that you are a little ... off” </span></span><span><span>she explained</span></span><span><span> carefully.</span></span></p>
<p>“Oh, it's nothing” Sam shrugged, running a hand through his hair before showing off an accentuated smile that he hoped would <span><span>be enough to </span></span><span><span>satisfy her. “It's just that I'm a little tired. Autumn gets</span></span><span><span> me down, you know.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>She also wore a smile, one of those that looked warm even when a weight was</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> on her heart.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“Is that why your boyfriend takes<span><span> you here and picks you up </span></span><span><span>by</span></span><span><span> car every day?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Oh, yes," the twenty-six-year-old </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>nodded, grateful that she</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>already </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>found a plausible and socially acceptable explanation for the whole package. “Luc is very considerate. He is afraid I </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>might get sick, so he</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> saves me every possible and imaginable strain. He exaggerates, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>of course, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>but there is no way to stop him.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Donna nodded without letting her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> smile </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>drop.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“Well, no doubt about it, you're really lucky!” <span><span>she exclaimed, patting him on the shoulder. “Look, I was thinking we might hang</span></span><span><span> out, one of these evenings. Nothing exhausting, I swear! Something quiet between us to have a chat. You know, it seems to me ...”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>She paused and a moment later </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>she </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>took a deep breath.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“It seems to me that we no longer talk<span><span> like we did </span></span><span><span>once. Sorry if I seem inappropriate, but I have the feeling that ...”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam nodded in encouragement.</span>
</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>
  <span>Donna approached him and went on whispering despite there was no one left besides the two of them in the building: “I have the feeling that you are keeping something bad inside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam never knew for sure if he was able to properly mask the panic that invaded his chest. Certainly he felt all the blood flowing from his face and had the sensation of having assumed the color of a sheet before being able to reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm fine, Donna," he said, trying to appear as amused and calm as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>“I mean, you always <span><span>look jittery</span></span><span><span> and I think that a little </span></span><span><span>bit of relax </span></span><span><span>would do you good” </span></span><span><span>she hurried to specify </span></span><span><span>for </span></span><span><span>her</span></span><span><span> colleague, accompanying everything with one of those giggles that were usually able to delight Sam during work. “It would feel</span></span><span><span> nice</span></span><span><span> for me too, to be honest.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>But this time all Sam felt was anxiety, an unjustified sense of alarm that went up his spine and stopped at the base of his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> skull, making him shiver.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“I'm sorry, Donna, I have to go” he apologized, glancing towards the exit to be sure that his boyfriend's Citroën SUV was not already parked just outside the glass doors of the library. “Luc may be here<span><span> already. Let's talk about it another time.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>That said, he closed the zipper of his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> backpack with a snap, put it on his shoulder and strode towards the exit.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“Oh, H-E-double hockey sticks”<span><span> Donna muttered, allowing</span></span><span><span> all the impatience she had kept at bay until then </span></span><span><span>to </span></span><span><span>take hold of her features. “Sam! Sam, wait!” </span></span><span><span>she called, running after him. The boy didn't stop until she put her hand on his arm. </span></span><span><span>“I didn't mean to offend you. I just wanted to tell you that I’m here, if you want. Whenever you want. Really.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Faced with her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> nervous smile, Sam folded his lips upwards with a benevolent gesture.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“It's all right, Donna. You didn’t offend me. It's just that <span><span>right now </span></span><span><span>I can't tell when I’ll have some time for one of our nights out, that's all. It's a </span></span><span><span>busy time for me”</span></span><span><span> he tried to calm her down, shrugging his</span></span><span><span> shoulders before saying goodbye by briefly touching her arm in </span></span><span><span>re</span></span><span><span>turn. “Have a good night. See you tomorrow.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Again, he left for the sliding door before she had time to answer.</span>
</p>
<p>“See you tomorrow, Sam” he heard her sigh a few meters behind him, and he had to tighten his eyelids for a moment to refrain from going back and share with her <span><span>the anguish that dominated him.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>I can't let him</span>
    </span>
    <span>
      <span> get tired of me, do you understand that? I have to be a good boyfriend. I have to obey him. I absolutely cannot lose him, Donna, he loves me. He loves me like</span>
    </span>
    <span>
      <span> no one ever loved me and I am crazy about him.</span>
    </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>No, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>she wouldn't have understood. Nobody could have. Luc had warned him about it.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam had just left the library behind and moved to the clearing where Luc used to park while he waited for him, when what he saw made</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> him to stop halfway. Luc had not arrived yet. The courtyard on the side of the street was empty, except for a car that Sam would have recognized even with his eyes closed. Needless to say, he was twenty meters away and his nostrils were already able to recognize the smell of the leather seats on which he had dozed off so many times, as a boy, and that no bed had ever been able to match as a matter of</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> safety. His father's car once, and now his brother's.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The '67 Chevrolet Impala stood out in every context, but earned ten more points thanks to the attitude of its owner: Dean had never been very humble</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> when it came to that car. When Sam saw him, the thirty-year-old was standing</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> leaning against the door with his arms crossed, but as soon as he noticed his brother he moved to meet him with a resolute pace.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam only managed to get a few words out of his throat when Dean was within reach.</span>
</p>
<p>“What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>His</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> older brother spread his arms with a smile that would have won anyone over.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“What am I doing here?” he repeated. “Three weeks since <span><span>the last time I saw you</span></span><span><span> and this is the first thing you tell me?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam accepted the embrace willingly, but he flushed with nervousness as soon as Dean's alerted green eyes returned to examine his.</span>
</p>
<p>“No, yes, sorry. I'm happy to see you. It's just that...” he stammered, escaping his gaze as long as he could. “I <span><span>was </span></span><span><span>just expecting</span></span><span><span> to find Luc. </span></span><span><span>He’s taking</span></span><span><span> me home </span></span><span><span>today”</span></span><span><span> he concluded, biting his lip.</span></span></p>
<p>“Hm” his brother considered, and, <span><span>just considering that low</span></span><span><span> mumble</span></span><span><span> and the expression that accompanied it, Sam began to have the feeling of being in trouble.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>When it came to scolding him, Dean was</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a union between their</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> mother's and their</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> father's approach. For Sam, this translated into "simply terrifying", although as effective as few other methods.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“Well, <span><span>it looks like </span></span><span><span>he isn't here yet, so we can have a chat.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Without taking the friendly tone, Sam shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>“I guess so.”</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Excellent," Dean </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>said</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>, wetting</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his lip before his face </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>went dark. “How about you start</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> by telling me why you're avoiding me?”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Although he thought he was ready, Sam </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>suffered the same fall he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had when confronting</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Donna.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><em>Damn it</em>, he thought to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What came out of his mouth, however, was a quick: "I'm not avoiding you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean's eyebrows rose to the point that they threatened to disappear into his ash-blonde hair.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Oh, aren’t you</span></span><span><span>? In case you forgot, we two used to meet every two or three days at most. Even when you were in C</span></span><span><span>alifornia</span></span><span><span> we were able to have dinner together at least once e</span></span><span><span>very two weeks</span></span><span><span>. And now not only y</span></span><span><span>ou’ve been making</span></span><span><span> excuses to skip e</span></span><span><span>very one</span></span><span><span> of our dates, including Cas's birthday, </span></span><span><span>for almost a month, </span></span><span><span>but you don't even answer my calls and the only way you a</span></span><span><span>ssure me</span></span><span><span> that you're still alive are these fucking messages!” he </span></span><span><span>burst out</span></span><span><span>, waving his smartphone under S</span></span><span><span>am’s</span></span><span><span> nose.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam closed his eyes, annoyed, but refrained from answering shouting</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> as Dean was doing. After all, on the one hand, he couldn't help recognizing he was right. It was true that he had not</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> shown up in a while, because Luc's rules did not allow him to go out often and, in any case, only in his company; and Luc </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>never liked Dean. And it was also true that Sam had avoided answering his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> phone every time his brother's name had appeared on the screen, because after all he feared that Dean could have understood</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> all recent</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> changes simply by hearing his voice. And he certainly wouldn't have accepted</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> them like fresh water.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>As for the rest, Sam understood Dean and the fact that he missed him. He missed his older brother</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> too, immensely. Not for nothing Cas had nicknamed them "parakeets", joking about their inability to stay separated for long.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Are you done?” he merely retorted, tense.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"No, I'm not done," Dean snapped again. “I didn't come here to have fun </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>giving</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> you </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>a slap on the wrist, but because Cas and I are worried, Sam. This behavior of yours is not normal. So now </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>you’re going to</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>explain to me what the hell is going on with you or I’m not fucking</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> letting</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> you go home with that </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>debauched </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>boyfriend </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>of yours!”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>At that point, Sam felt the bile go up his throat and staying calm became a much more complex task.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Okay," he said to calm both himself and Dean. “I'm sorry I made you worry, okay? But don't involve</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Luc in this.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>O</span></span><span><span>h, because t</span></span><span><span>his</span></span><span><span> has nothing to do with h</span></span><span><span>im</span></span><span><span>, right?” t</span></span><span><span>he eldest reiterated</span></span><span><span>. “Is that why before </span></span><span><span>you</span></span><span><span> completely disappeared I could only see you as long as he was o</span></span><span><span>n</span></span><span><span> your ass, </span></span><span><span>as if </span></span><span><span>you were a serial killer on a </span></span><span><span>day</span></span><span><span> out? What d</span></span><span><span>id he</span></span><span><span> become, your b</span></span><span><span>ody</span></span><span><span> guard? Or maybe your jailer? Is it too much to ask to spend some time with my brother?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam clenched the fist that held the strap of his backpack until his knuckles turned white.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Stop it," he hissed, tightening his eyelids and praying he wouldn't have to make a scene in the middle of the street. Anyone could have seen them. At any moment, her boyfriend's car would </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>have </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>appeared</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> from the bend at the end of the road and what was happening would not have been a good start for</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the evening. “You don't know anything about us. You don't know anything about Luc.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>That phrase made</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a bitter laugh </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>escape</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> from Dean's lips.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Oh, I happen to know a little bit about Luc” he assured, widening his eyes and embracing his theatrical streak. “That's why I never liked h</span></span><span><span>im</span></span><span><span>, and now I like h</span></span><span><span>im</span></span><span><span> even less. That's why I tried to keep you away from him from the first moment </span></span><span><span>he laid his eyes on you</span></span><span><span>!”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam gritted his teeth, without giving up.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Well, let's hear </span></span><span><span>it</span></span><span><span>, </span></span><span><span>then: </span></span><span><span>what's wrong a</span></span><span><span>bout him</span></span><span><span>?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Dean spread his arms as if the answer was obvious for the whole neighborhood.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>First </span></span><span><span>of all</span></span><span><span>, he's a business consultant. And then </span></span><span><span>he</span></span><span><span>'s c</span></span><span><span>reepy</span></span><span><span>. And before </span></span><span><span>getting his hands on </span></span><span><span>you, he seduced and abandoned half the city.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>It was Sam's turn to laugh, however bitter his amusement was.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Y</span></span><span><span>ou’re one to talk</span></span><span><span>! Before m</span></span><span><span>eeting</span></span><span><span> Cas, everyone thought y</span></span><span><span>ou worked as a hooker”</span></span><span><span> he exclaimed, silencing his brother. “Listen, I'm sorry that you are selfish e</span></span><span><span>nough to</span></span><span><span> think y</span></span><span><span>ou’re</span></span><span><span> the only one who deserves a happy love story, but I don't have the time or desire to listen to </span></span><span><span>any more of </span></span><span><span>your bullshit” he then said, overcoming him with great strides. “Hug Cas for me. Tell him I'm so sorry I missed h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> birthday.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>For a few seconds he felt guilty and proud at the same time for how he had severed the conversation with his brother. But</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> then he felt a familiar grip tighten around his wrist and stopped without Dean's need for a movement. Right: his brother didn't push or pull</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> him without a valid reason.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Where do you think you're going?” the eldest breathed. “We're not done.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>At that point it was Sam who freed himself, pushing him away with a push on his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Yes, we are! You don't even know Luc, yet you insult him! Since you h</span></span><span><span>aven’t exactly kept an open mind</span></span><span><span>about him </span></span><span><span>s</span></span><span><span>ince</span></span><span><span> the first time you saw him and you have no intention of changing your o</span></span><span><span>pinion</span></span><span><span>, t</span></span><span><span>his conversation is over.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>But Dean didn't give up. This time Sam felt the warmth of the palm of his hand on his shoulder and for some reason which were unknown to him he agreed to stop again.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Sam, wait.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>That voice. Almost kind, now, even if full of dark apprehension. Sam had to swallow what seemed like a block of concrete to resist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Let me go," he whispered, feeling suddenly exhausted.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Sam. I’</span></span><span><span>m </span></span><span><span>only ask</span></span><span><span>ing</span></span><span><span> for a few minutes, </span></span><span><span>here</span></span><span><span>. A few minutes to talk w</span></span><span><span>ith</span></span><span><span> me, h</span></span><span><span>ow is it such a big deal</span></span><span><span>?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>As much as he liked to pass himself off as a hard and tireless man, the worry in Dean's voice was pervasive now. A part of Sam, that tiny part of his soul that still refused to bend to the horror of his daily life, wanted the twenty-six-year-old to turn around and tell him everything, from the first slap onwards. But the blind terror inside Sam covered a much larger territory.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Hearing his brother talking</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> for minutes, the boy felt </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>a wave of </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>panic rise and began to feel cold sweat covering his neck</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> again</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> as senseless calculations destroyed</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his thoughts. He had left the library at seven</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> thirty </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>p.m. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>and it usually didn't happen before eight p.m., but it was also true that he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>always found Luc waiting </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>at the exit, eager to load him in the car and go home quickly. How much</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> time had passed</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> while he was arguing with Dean? How many minutes, how many seconds did he have before Luc appeared before him, saw him with Dean and thought that he had organized a meeting without making him participate? How long did he have</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> before getting</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> kicked on the kitchen floor </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>again?</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam turned to Dean driven by survival instincts. He felt that his lips and hands had started to shake</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> with the panic that had grabbed his ankles, but at that moment the only sensible action he could think of was convincing his brother to leave him alone. Make him understand that he was only making things worse.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>You have to go, do you understand?” </span></span><span><span>Sam </span></span><span><span>finally managed to articulate, biting his lips and looking around feverishly. “</span></span><span><span>Should he</span></span><span><span> arrive now and s</span></span><span><span>ee that I’m</span></span><span><span> here with you...”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>When he could not complete the sentence, something seemed to collapse inside Dean and Sam found himself </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>to be </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the object of a pity that he had never seen on </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his older brother’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> face. Dean seemed to get lost while looking at the twenty-six-year-old's pale face, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>at his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> terrified expression.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Sam.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>"Just... go away, Dean," the youngest begged, breathing quickly. “I’m begging you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>By now he was putting all his energy into a miserable attempt not to cry, but his brother certainly didn't need to hear his sobs to understand the gravity of the situation. Without hesitation, Dean</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> put his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> arm around his shoulders and led him to the Impala.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Take it easy. Jesus Christ, calm down. Come on, sit down.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>When Dean opened the car door and helped him sit on the passenger seat, Sam no longer knew where to find the strength to protest. He could not calm the rhythm of his breathing and at the same time he felt suffocating. Out of the corner of his eye, he continued to check the curve of the road leading to Luc's house. In the end, his brother had to shake</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> him to </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>get him to </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>pay attention.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Hey, listen to me," he called back, and in his eyes Sam saw his mother, that</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> time he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>been taken</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the emergency room for severe food poisoning. “I have no idea what’s happening to you, but now you fasten that </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>seat belt</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and come </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>to my place for dinner.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam began to shake his head quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>N-no, I can't. I absolutely can't, I...”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Of course you can," the thirty-year-old interrupted </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>him, and he buttoned up his seat belt by himself just in case. “You are my brother, I love you and we haven't talked for a lifetime. And Cas is making crepês tonight.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam felt the memory of Castiel's delicacies and </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>of </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the evenings spent with him and his brother warming his stomach, but it was only a moment. No, he couldn't. He didn't have to disobey Luc, he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>made a promise. And he could not avoid thinking about the consequences of acting</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> so out of line.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Dean” he insisted for the last time, swallowing and closing his eyes, because there was nothing worse than seeing his brother watching him tremble like a s</span></span><span><span>cared puppy</span></span><span><span>. “Luc expects to find me here.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He tried to put all his prayers into that sentence, hoping that Dean could understand. But Dean had already comprehended everything long before </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>that </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>and that was precisely why</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> he would never give up.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Fuck Luc," he said, while his face darkened. “We two need to talk and I </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>certainly </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>won't let</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a pompous business consultant stop us.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I apologize if there are any commercial consultants among you readers! I have nothing against this category, but I needed a profession for Luc and, oh well, we all know that Dean is not that subtle.<br/>Thanks to anyone reading, leaving kudos and comments! I love that *distributes pancakes and maple syrup*<br/>How did you liked this chapter? I loved introducing Donna and Dean *-*<br/>Take care and see you soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A taste of normal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean didn't even have </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>enough </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>time to get behind the wheel</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> before</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Sam began</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> tinkering</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with his cell phone. The twenty-six-year-old felt</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his older brother's worried gaze on himself, but not even Dean's worst anxieties could have found a valid reason to prevent him from sending a message.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>
      <span>To: Luc</span>
    </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>I’m going to Dean and Cas’s place for dinner. Sorry if I didn't warn you, but my brother appeared out of nowhere and I couldn't say no. See you later at home. I'm sorry.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p><span><span><span>After the</span></span></span><span><span><span>ir</span></span></span><span><span><span> wedding, Dean and Castiel had moved to an apartment building that overlooked a street full of bars and shops, conveniently </span></span></span><span><span><span>placed </span></span></span><span><span><span>within </span></span></span><span><span><span>a s</span></span></span><span><span><span>hort walk </span></span></span><span><span><span>distance</span></span></span> <span><span><span>from the g</span></span></span><span><span><span>arage</span></span></span><span><span><span> where Dean worked and f</span></span></span><span><span><span>ifteen minutes</span></span></span><span><span><span> by bike </span></span></span><span><span><span>away </span></span></span><span><span><span>from the studio where Cas practiced as a psychotherapist. The apartment they rented was, in Sam's opinion, simply delightful. The t</span></span></span><span><span><span>wenty-six</span></span></span><span><span><span>-year-old realized that his </span></span></span><span><span><span>judgment</span></span></span><span><span><span> might h</span></span></span><span><span><span>ave been</span></span></span><span><span><span> tarnished by what Dean had confided to him about </span></span></span><span><span><span>choosing</span></span></span><span><span><span> that place – as well as the proximity to their respective w</span></span></span><span><span><span>orkplaces</span></span></span><span><span><span>, he and Cas had f</span></span></span><span><span><span>ound</span></span></span><span><span><span> i</span></span></span><span><span><span>t</span></span></span><span><span><span> the same day they </span></span></span><span><span><span>had </span></span></span><span><span><span>started talking </span></span></span><span><span><span>seriously</span></span></span> <span><span><span>about </span></span></span><span><span><span>the</span></span></span><span><span><span>ir</span></span></span><span><span><span> common desire to have little Novak-Winchesters walk</span></span></span><span><span><span>ing</span></span></span><span><span><span> around the house; a</span></span></span><span><span><span>nd that explained the extra room</span></span></span><span><span><span> – but he didn't care. Sam loved that place. For the past two years, he couldn't help but feel like </span></span></span><span><span><span>that was his</span></span></span><span><span><span> home </span></span></span><span><span><span>too</span></span></span><span><span><span>.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Despite this, Sam could not prevent the block of granite in his stomach from turning </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>into ice when he found himself in front of the door which bore</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his brother's </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>and Cas’s </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>names</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> on a plate placed under the peephole. If trying to get his brother to believe his play had been complicated for a few minutes on the side of the road, dinner would have been a nightmare.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Respectful of his brother's silence, Dean had not said a word during the entire ride</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and did not emit</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> a single sound even as he opened the door and passed the threshold of the apartment, leaving Sam no choice but to follow him two steps behind.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Love, I'm home” the thirty-year-old said as he left his jacket and shoes in the small lobby.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam was wondering if he should announce himself or not, when his brother-in-law came out of the kitchen in his shirt and office trousers and a polka dot tea dishcloth abandoned</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> on his right shoulder.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Hey," he smiled, rushing to kiss his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband before he even noticed Sam.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The latter tried to look away, but in the end something held him back and he observed</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the enthusiasm</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with which Dean responded to that greeting and the tenderness with which Castiel caressed his cheek, adorning his tired expression</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with a smile.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Where have you been? It </span></span></span><span><span><span>was getting pretty</span></span></span><span><span><span> late, Mr. Winchester.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"I had to take a detour," Dean apologized. “I hope you were generous</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with the crepês, because we have a guest.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Intrigued by his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband's nod, Cas finally turned to Sam, who was still by the door and closed it permanently behind him just in that instant. It was done, he could no longer leave. The widening of Cas's smile would have made even</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> a vegan </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>stop </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>at his table, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>though it was overflowing with dairy products.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Sam!” his brother-in-law exclaimed, rushing to h</span></span></span><span><span><span>ug</span></span></span><span><span><span> him. “How nice to see you!”</span></span></span></p>
<p><span><span><span>The boy let </span></span></span><span><span><span>him</span></span></span> <span><span><span>squeeze him</span></span></span><span><span><span>, then made an immense effort to return h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is</span></span></span><span><span><span> smile.</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span>Hi, Cas.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>His voice had come out low, but his brother-in-law didn't seem to mind.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Come </span></span></span><span><span><span>on </span></span></span><span><span><span>in, sit down. Dean, can you bring him his slippers? Thank you,” Cas a</span></span></span><span><span><span>sked</span></span></span><span><span><span>, and Dean disappeared for a moment behind the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam wondered if it was those little things, like having his slippers waiting for him, that made that place look like his home too. He wasn’t done</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> comparing that sensation to the twinge in his stomach that he felt every time he entered Luc's apartment, that Cas was back, a hand resting just under his shoulder.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>How are you, Sam?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Fine," the twenty-six-year-old </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>replied </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>automatically. He seemed to catch a flash of disbelief in his brother's eyes as he placed a pair of soft shoes in front of him, but decided to ignore it to continue playing the game with Cas. “I'm fine.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>His </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>brother-in-law's smile was something unmatched. Sam believed it was a physical peculiarity that helped him a lot in building a relationship of trust with his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> patients</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> during psychotherapy sessions.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Well, </span></span></span><span><span><span>don’t be shy, </span></span></span><span><span><span>sit down and start eating” the dark </span></span></span><span><span><span>haired</span></span></span><span><span><span> man urged them, clapping his hands and pointing them towards the table set b</span></span></span><span><span><span>eyond</span></span></span><span><span><span> the sofa and the television. “The main course has already been ready for a while, you better s</span></span></span><span><span><span>tuff yourself</span></span></span><span><span><span> before it g</span></span></span><span><span><span>ets cold</span></span></span><span><span><span>. Of course, Dean, </span></span></span><span><span><span>if you</span></span></span><span><span><span> had warned me earlier I could have organized better.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam followed Dean to the table and sat in front of him, smiling in spite of himself in front of the wrinkle </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>that appeared on</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> older</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> brother's forehead in front of his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband's complaints.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>It's all wonderful, Cas” t</span></span></span><span><span><span>he guest</span></span></span><span><span><span> felt compelled to say, enjoying the view of the central tower of crepês and </span></span></span><span><span><span>everything </span></span></span><span><span><span>that surrounded them: there were ham, cheese, spinach, honey and jam to garnish. “Sorry for the s</span></span></span><span><span><span>urprise</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Cas's voice rang out from the kitchen, which was open and looked</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> directly onto the living room and dining room, like a bar counter.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Don’t worry</span></span></span><span><span><span>, angel, you are always welcome. It's my husband's fault and he knows it.”</span></span></span></p>
<p><span><span><span>Sam was surprised when C</span></span></span><span><span><span>as</span></span></span><span><span><span> reacted with a wink that h</span></span></span><span><span><span>e</span></span></span><span><span><span> made w</span></span></span><span><span><span>ithout</span></span></span><span><span><span> Dean </span></span></span><span><span><span>being able to see it</span></span></span><span><span><span>. The thirty-year-old, in fact, </span></span></span><span><span><span>had turned</span></span></span><span><span><span> his back on him and had already begun to h</span></span></span><span><span><span>elp</span></span></span><span><span><span> himself, pretending not to have heard h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is husband</span></span></span><span><span><span>. Sam loved the e</span></span></span><span><span><span>asiness</span></span></span><span><span><span> with which Cas knew how to put him at ease. He did it f</span></span></span><span><span><span>or</span></span></span><span><span><span> everyone, a</span></span></span><span><span><span>ctually</span></span></span><span><span><span>, while Dean played grumpy at all costs. But Sam knew that the shadows s</span></span></span><span><span><span>howing</span></span></span><span><span><span> i</span></span></span><span><span><span>n his brother's eyes t</span></span></span><span><span><span>hat evening</span></span></span><span><span><span> were real and that he s</span></span></span><span><span><span>hould</span></span></span><span><span><span> remember how they had come to that point: Dean wanted </span></span></span><span><span><span>him </span></span></span><span><span><span>to speak and would have d</span></span></span><span><span><span>emanded</span></span></span> <span><span><span>him </span></span></span><span><span><span>to speak. </span></span></span><span><span><span>A ba</span></span></span><span><span><span>d start for Sam's play.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>By now his plate was overflowing with food, but, to Sam's amazement, Dean did not rush to the cutlery. On the contrary, he placed his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> elbows on the table and </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>wrapped</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> one hand with</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the other, turning to the right to address his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband in his typical "don't-even-try-to-argue-with-me" tone, a feature that he had inherited verbatim</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> from John Winchester.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>If you plan on skipping dinner </span></span></span><span><span><span>again </span></span></span><span><span><span>tonight, Castiel, y</span></span></span><span><span><span>ou’re sadly mistaken</span></span></span><span><span><span>. </span></span></span><span><span><span>Join us</span></span></span><span><span><span>, come on.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>At the Winchester house, the boys had always understood</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> they were in trouble when both their first and middle names were used, but Dean's husband had such a royal first name that it was more than enough.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I'll be right there, I'll get some bread and a plate for Sam” Cas replied, making sure he got Sam's attention before rolling his eyes and shaking his head with a falsely desperate smile. Sam was sure it was just a game when both his plate, his cutlery and his glass arrived at the table and </span></span></span><span><span><span>his brother got </span></span></span><span><span><span>a kiss o</span></span></span><span><span><span>n his head while muttering</span></span></span><span><span><span> something i</span></span></span><span><span><span>naudible</span></span></span><span><span><span>. “And not to contradict you at all costs, but it only happened yesterday, Dean. I was on the phone with a patient. I couldn't l</span></span></span><span><span><span>eave</span></span></span><span><span><span> her, </span></span></span><span><span><span>not</span></span></span><span><span><span> in the s</span></span></span><span><span><span>tate</span></span></span><span><span><span> she was in” Cas explained to Sam's benefit, motioning for him to h</span></span></span><span><span><span>elp</span></span></span><span><span><span> himself </span></span></span><span><span><span>with the food</span></span></span><span><span><span>.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Two hours on the phone," the thirty-year-old went on mumbling, sinking his fork and knife into his cheese-filled crepês. “I don't like </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>you</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> taking home more</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> work to deal with. Especially when</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> it takes your appetite away.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Recognizing apprehension behind his rough ways, Cas smiled and nodded exaggeratedly, continuing to lightly tease him to compensate</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his mood. Sam found himself thinking that those two worked like a perfectly calibrated clockwork mechanism.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Yes, my love. You're right, okay? Now eat and be good, or you'll i</span></span></span><span><span><span>rritate</span></span></span><span><span><span> Sam as usual.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Oh, no problem," Sam </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>intervened</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>. “I'm used to hearing him talking nonsense.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean did not react, but Cas chuckled and poured some water in</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> everyone’s glasses, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>returning</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to Sam as soon as he could.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>So w</span></span></span><span><span><span>hat have you been doing</span></span></span><span><span><span> recently? We missed you.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Caught out, Sam forgot the relief he had felt a moment earlier by sharing a piece of normal</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with his brother and brother-in-law. Although he had not yet made false steps in front of Cas, that question made him stare at the mound of spinach on his plate.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I... I've b</span></span></span><span><span><span>een busy</span></span></span><span><span><span> lately. Yes, Luc and I are very active, we a</span></span></span><span><span><span>re trying</span></span></span><span><span><span> a lot of new experiences. We are out of town every weekend and on the </span></span></span><span><span><span>working </span></span></span><span><span><span>days I am too tired to do anything else. By the way, we are sorry we missed your party. I have your p</span></span></span><span><span><span>resent</span></span></span><span><span><span> at home. I'll t</span></span></span><span><span><span>ake</span></span></span><span><span><span> it </span></span></span><span><span><span>with me </span></span></span><span><span><span>next time.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>While Sam wasn't looking at him, Cas's smile lost a few pixels.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>It doesn't matter, Sam. We are just glad to see you” the t</span></span></span><span><span><span>hirty-five</span></span></span><span><span><span>-year-old</span></span></span><span><span><span> said</span></span></span><span><span><span>, exchanging a quick glance with h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is</span></span></span><span><span><span> husband before continuing in a lovable tone. “</span></span></span><span><span><span>And h</span></span></span><span><span><span>ow's Luc doing?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Oh, great, </span></span></span><span><span><span>he’s doing great</span></span></span><span><span><span>. </span></span></span><span><span><span>He’s receiving</span></span></span><span><span><span> more and more collaboration requests from new companies. Yes, h</span></span></span><span><span><span>e</span></span></span><span><span><span> is very well” Sam nodded, starting to cut a slice of cheese into tiny pieces. “And he likes working from home, </span></span></span><span><span><span>you know? H</span></span></span><span><span><span>e c</span></span></span><span><span><span>an manage</span></span></span><span><span><span> time much better than m</span></span></span><span><span><span>e</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span>Oh, that's fantastic.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Yes," Dean </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>said, his austere gaze now fixed on his companion's blue eyes. “He </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>picks him up after</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> work. And he takes him there, too. Everyday.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Cas gave him a warning glance, perfectly aware of what he wanted to emphasize. Cas had been the only person Dean had vented about Sam's disappearance in the past few weeks, after all. If there was someone who knew his fears about it and who knew how to recognize the onset of a crisis, that was him.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Dean...”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>But Sam, who had raised his eyes and froze on the spot when he heard his brother's words, didn't give him a chance to continue.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>How do you know?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"I have my sources," Dean </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>replied in an undaunted </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>voice, keeping on chewing. “Did you really think you could </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>just vanish</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> without me doing my research?”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Dean," Cas called</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> again, pushing</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> even more on his name. “This isn't your business.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Since everyone was doing it, Sam found it helpful to go back to eating, only </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>adding: “Thanks, Cas.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>But his older brother was not physically able to let a spark die. Impatient both towards</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband's forcibly quiet tone and Sam's attempt to pass himself off as the happiest person on the globe, he slammed his fork and knife</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> beside the plate and leaned forward.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>O</span></span></span><span><span><span>h, is t</span></span></span><span><span><span>his</span></span></span><span><span><span> how you want to p</span></span></span><span><span><span>lay</span></span></span><span><span><span> i</span></span></span><span><span><span>t</span></span></span><span><span><span>?” he hissed t</span></span></span><span><span><span>owards</span></span></span><span><span><span> his brother. “A</span></span></span><span><span><span>wesome</span></span></span><span><span><span>. So why don't you tell Cas what happened a moment before I brought you here, </span></span></span><span><span><span>then?” he</span></span></span><span><span><span> provoked </span></span></span><span><span><span>the youngest</span></span></span><span><span><span> with a grimace that h</span></span></span><span><span><span>ad</span></span></span><span><span><span> nothing joyful, managing to make the twenty-six-year-old grind h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is teeth</span></span></span><span><span><span>. “Come on, Sam. If what Luc does is not </span></span></span><span><span><span>any of </span></span></span><span><span><span>my business, why don't you tell Cas how happy you were that he c</span></span></span><span><span><span>ould find</span></span></span><span><span><span> us talking together?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>One of the two would have exploded, it always ended like that. For divine goodness, however, Cas had a master's degree in psychology and, in addition, four years of school for psychotherapists to hold it all together.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Okay, that's enough. Let's all take a deep breath” he settled, putting dinner aside with much more grace than h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is</span></span></span><span><span><span> husband. “Dean” </span></span></span><span><span><span>he</span></span></span> <span><span><span>repeated once</span></span></span><span><span><span> again, this time to s</span></span></span><span><span><span>tare at</span></span></span><span><span><span> him with the eyes that had made him fall madly in love with him more than five years before. “Now you calm down. I’</span></span></span><span><span><span>m serious</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>A betrayed expression made its way onto the blonde's face.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>What? But...”</span></p>
<p>“<span>No buts. I know you are worried about him. I know, okay? We talked about it. But attacking him won’t help and least of all will make him feel more comfortable.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Stiff as a piece of wood, Sam hoped that the exchange would never end. Even if they </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>continued to talk about him as if he were not there, he preferred to disappear than to have to come to terms with the compassion of his brother. But it was only a moment before Dean's eyes found his and the feeling of having his back soaked in icy sweat returned to take </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>ahold of him.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I'm sorry, Sammy” his brother a</span></span></span><span><span><span>pologized</span></span></span><span><span><span> with a sincerely contrite expression that didn't belong to him. “But I'm really worried about you. Especially after seeing how you reacted to the prospect of Luc not finding you where you </span></span></span><span><span><span>had</span></span></span><span><span><span> promised to be.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>After several seconds of horrible silence, Sam opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Feeling panic stiffen from his legs to his chest, he realized that he had started to shiver</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> again.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Sam” Cas intervened at that point, t</span></span></span><span><span><span>rying</span></span></span><span><span><span> to keep </span></span></span><span><span><span>up </span></span></span><span><span><span>the professional's mask despite the concern was s</span></span></span><span><span><span>howing</span></span></span><span><span><span> on his face. “You can tell us everything, you know. Everything. Whatever is going on, we are here.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Cas, sweet Cas. With all the people</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> he had helped, couldn’t</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> he understand? There was no way out. Not for Sam, not through them.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"I can't," the twenty-six-year-old croaked, staring at the blue and yellow striped cotton tablecloth.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Would you rather... would you l</span></span></span><span><span><span>ike</span></span></span><span><span><span> me to leave you alone with Dean? It wouldn't be a problem.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"No," Sam refused, tightening his eyelids and </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>clenching his fists. How had</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> he</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> got</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> into that situation? How could he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>allow</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> it</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to happen? Luc would </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>have </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>punished</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him and he would have been</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> right. “I can't talk with</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> you about anything. Hell, I shouldn't even be here.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Why not? We are your family.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Cas, again. Still that measured, calm tone he used with his patients. For the first time, even his brother-in-law's innate candor made Sam feel inadequate, observed and studied as a captive animal. He felt a rush of anger, hot and intense, pierce his skull.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>No” he repeated through h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is</span></span></span><span><span><span> teeth, clenching his fingers around the edge of the table until he hurt himself. “No, Luc is my family now. And he will be angry, he will be </span></span></span><span><span><span>mad at</span></span></span><span><span><span> me for not showing up at our appointment, for getting into y</span></span></span><span><span><span>our</span></span></span><span><span><span> car and coming here. No, h</span></span></span><span><span><span>e</span></span></span><span><span><span>... he will be furious, because I will also arrive home late.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>You can s</span></span></span><span><span><span>pend the night</span></span></span><span><span><span> here, Sammy. No problem.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean's voice had emerged more feeble than ever, delicate as if he feared he could break</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> something </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>which had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>already been severely damaged</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> inside</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his younger brother. Sam had not realized that he had been raising his voice</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> more and more, while spitting out the reasons for his anguish.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>No! You don’t understand!” he shouted, pushing himself away from the table and making the legs of the chair screech against the floor. “And stop it, stop calling me <em>Sammy</em>, this is not fun!”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>"We know it isn't," Cas tried to reassure him, who seemed the least dismayed between the two. “We just want to help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>T</span></span></span><span><span><span>hen</span></span></span><span><span><span> c</span></span></span><span><span><span>ut this whole inquisition thing off</span></span></span><span><span><span> and take me back h</span></span></span><span><span><span>ome</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>That phrase seemed capable of destabilizing Dean once and for all. But it had to be acknowledged that, unlike his brother, he was doing the impossible to stay calm. Perhaps, in the end, all those years of coexistence and open-hearted confessions with Cas would have proven good for</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> something.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Sam, if Luc forced you to do something or </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>hurt you... </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>even </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>if he only</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> talked</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to you in a way that you didn't like, you have to tell me," he persevered, the concentration of his inner torment </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>showing </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>on his face.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam took a deep breath, forcing himself to stop with those girlish gasps. Grabbing his left forearm with his right hand in an instinctive gesture that had been haunting</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him from the previous night, he leaned over the table, towards his older brother, and articulated</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his reply</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with all the poison he had in his body.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Take me back h</span></span></span><span><span><span>ome</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>But Dean was too fast. His eyes had already noticed the unthinkable.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>What’s wrong with your arm?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>"Nothing," Sam replied, abruptly retreating and returning his gaze to the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The grip on his forearm tightened and his brain sent him pain signals that the boy ignored. He needed a distraction. Dean </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>was immediately on his feet and, a blink of an eye later, beside him.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Show it to me," he ordered, and without waiting for an answer he forced Sam to take his hand away so he could pull up his sleeve.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Dean!” Cas protested, exasperated, but nobody b</span></span></span><span><span><span>othered listening</span></span></span><span><span><span> to him.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>On Sam's tanned forearm, on his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> wrist, a bluish bruise stood out, as large as the hand of a man. With a more analytical look, the exact five points where Luc Benson's fingers had squeezed too hard and for too long could have been pinned. It was at that point that something broke definitively inside Dean.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>What is this?” he asked in a low voice.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam took no pity and yanked him away, pulling his sleeve down again.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>It's nothing. Or, at least, n</span></span></span><span><span><span>one of your concern</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Cas saw a blind fury make its way into his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband's eyes before his yelling</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> broke the air.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>T</span></span></span><span><span><span>here’s no fucking way</span></span></span><span><span><span> I’</span></span></span><span><span><span>m letting</span></span></span><span><span><span> you go back to that maniac's house!”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam felt himself explode with anger and shame. Closing his eyes and clenching his fists to hide the shaking</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> that made him feel so inadequate, he jumped up and sprinted past his brother, heading for the living room. Dean was right behind him to catch him, but Cas preceded him, getting</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to his feet</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to stop</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Dean” he r</span></span></span><span><span><span>eiterated</span></span></span><span><span><span> once more, giving him yet another look with which he begged him to keep his instinct for protection with a tendency to murder at bay. “T</span></span></span><span><span><span>his isn’t helping</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>The thirty-year-old widened his eyes in disbelief.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>And what do you think I should do? H</span></span></span><span><span><span>is</span></span></span><span><span><span> piece of shit </span></span></span><span><span><span>boyfriend</span></span></span><span><span><span>...”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I know. I saw. Let me </span></span></span><span><span><span>do the</span></span></span><span><span><span> talk</span></span></span><span><span><span>ing</span></span></span><span><span><span>” Cas interrupted him in the tone he used when he didn't t</span></span></span><span><span><span>hink</span></span></span><span><span><span> there was anything more to discuss, before turning to face the problem with all the professionalism he was able to put in place at that juncture. “Sam...”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>But Sam had taken</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> refuge on the edge of the sofa, as far as possible from the two of them. His right hand was holding </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>his smartphone</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> next to his ear and the boy</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was already talking, fast and with shortness of breath, as if he had just recovered from an escape to save his life. Cas didn't catch up with him in time.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Luc? I know. Yes, I know, </span></span></span><span><span><span>I’m </span></span></span><span><span><span>sorry. Yes. Can you come and get me, please?” </span></span></span><span><span><span>h</span></span></span><span><span><span>e m</span></span></span><span><span><span>umbled</span></span></span><span><span><span>, giving short breaks for the answers of t</span></span></span><span><span><span>he one</span></span></span><span><span><span> h</span></span></span><span><span><span>e had called</span></span></span><span><span><span>. He was on the verge of tears, but he seemed to want to hide it from everyone involved. “Thank you. Of course, I'll wait for you on the street.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The twenty-six-year-old ended the call and was immediately on his feet. He</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> took only a moment to rub his eyes with two fingers, but then he left for the apartment door without looking at the owners.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Sam!” Dean c</span></span></span><span><span><span>ried</span></span></span><span><span><span>, running after him. “Sam, don't do this. Don’</span></span></span><span><span><span>t do this</span></span></span><span><span><span>. Sam, come back h</span></span></span><span><span><span>e</span></span></span><span><span><span>-...”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The door that slammed behind Sam nearly hit him in the face. Suffocating a curse, the eldest </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Winchester grabbed</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>door </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>handle, but a steel grip on his shoulder blocked him in place. He</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> turned to </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>throw a </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> furious glance</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> at his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband and </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>at </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>his </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>long face.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>We have to stop h</span></span></span><span><span><span>im</span></span></span><span><span><span>!” he insisted, believing t</span></span></span><span><span><span>he other</span></span></span><span><span><span> had gone c</span></span></span><span><span><span>razy</span></span></span><span><span><span>.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"It won't work," Cas said in a much more reasonable tone, though</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his face embodied</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the gravity of the situation. “He believes Luc loves him and is right, Dean. He'll call the police just to push us</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> away and go home with him.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>With his own calm he managed to remind Dean why he could make him reflect even in the worst situations, why he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>ended up marrying him and why his colleagues valued him so much. Crushed by that terrible truth, the thirty-year-old made his arms fall to his sides and felt the tears rise to pinch his eyes as he turned to Cas for a miraculous solution that he already knew did not exist.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>What can we do, then?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Destroyed by his partner's broken voice, Cas swallowed and took a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Let's wait and hope he realizes what's going on," he said softly, putting a hand on his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband's cheek to support him when he saw his eyes wet. “The only one who can take the first step to get out of it, Dean, is your brother. As long as he sees Luc </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>as his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> great love, his savior, he will keep all kinds of help away. Including us. We </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>have </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>just tried to take him</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> away from him. Before we can do anything else, Sam must see </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>that he is in danger and needs help. And </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>right now</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> he doesn't think that's the case.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>For Dean it was as if his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband had just made him walk on hot coals. He gasped, bringing</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> a hand to his face exactly as Sam had done a minute earlier, in an attempt to hold all the pieces together. He could not make it.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>F</span></span></span><span><span><span>or</span></span></span><span><span><span> Christ’</span></span></span><span><span><span>s sake</span></span></span><span><span><span>... s</span></span></span><span><span><span>on of a</span></span></span><span><span><span> bitch!” he shouted into thin air, throwing a punch at the wall.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>As quick and efficient as during his patients’ seizures, Cas grabbed his arms and pulled down, preventing him from hurting himself. Dean tried to resist, but the panic had weakened him and in a few moves Cas managed to pull him towards him to hold him in the most anguished embrace. His</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> grip around his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband's body remained firm until he felt Dean</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> abandon himself to him, his chest shaking with sobs that the boy </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>didn't indulge in</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> easily. The last time it </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>happened was the day his father </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>died.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"He's my brother, Cas," he gasped. “My brother…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That word hid infinite meanings for the Winchesters. Cas was aware of this – he knew that Dean and Sam's relationship was intertwined in a thousand complex knots that involved a happy but complicated childhood, a marked tendency for Sam to rebel against his father and a sense of unbridled duty on Dean’s part as far as the youngest was concerned – and for once he had no idea how to console him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"I know," he just kept on </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>repeating, stroking his back and head relentlessly in an attempt to calm that cry. “I know.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sense of helplessness pushed them towards each other. They collapsed to sit on the sofa at the exact moment Sam entered Luc's car and closed the door without the slightest hesitation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really liked describing a little bit about the daily life of Dean and Cas. What do you think about that?<br/>It got me a little relieved from the drama I'm making Sam go through.<br/>I hope you enjoyed the chapter, even if sadness still dominates. I tried to describe the Destiel house as a safe haven and to ensure that Dean's blood instincts ended up prevailing over Cas's professionalism as a psychotherapist. The psychological component is something that I want to focus on in the near future , regarding Sam, and I hope not to mess around. If you feel I do, feel free to let me know, I care.<br/>Hugs to those who comment, who leave kudos and to silent readers too! See you soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. It’s always darkest before the dawn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Once </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>he got </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>inside the car, Sam hurriedly fastened his </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>seat </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>belt as he cast a worried last look at the illuminated front door of the apartment building where his brother and Castiel lived. In the insane fear that Dean would follow him to the street and try to keep him away from his boyfriend's SUV, he curled up on the seat tightening his jacket around his body, as if trying to disappear, and he smiled</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> gratefully</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>at</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Luc as his boyfriend</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> returned into traffic.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Thanks for coming” he b</span></span></span><span><span><span>reathed</span></span></span><span><span><span> with warm gratitude, touching his arm with his fingers </span></span></span><span><span><span>as a sign</span></span></span><span><span><span> of affection.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Luc immediately stiffened and the serious expression on his face only got worse.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>S</span></span></span><span><span><span>hut</span></span></span><span><span><span> your mouth” he g</span></span></span><span><span><span>rowled</span></span></span><span><span><span>, without taking his eyes off the road.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam shivered and the idea of not obeying didn't even reach</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his brain. Attacked by the frost that filled the passenger compartment and which seemed to emanate from Luc himself and his tense nerves, the twenty-six-year-old clasped his arms around his body in a futile attempt to get warmer</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and closed his eyes, pushing away both</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the streetlights and</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Luc's pungent disappointment.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>While trying to calm his heartbeat with all he had</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> – Luc was angry, but how much? Furious, he was out of his mind. What was he about to do? Would it be noticeable </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>the next day at work? Donna had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>already </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>asked him how he got that bruise on his jaw </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>once –, Sam recovered from the maze of his memory the method that Dean had taught him when they were children: he forgot where he was, who he was with and let the most comforting memories that he had available invade his mind.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>As Luc pressed</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> on the accelerator pedal like a devil, Sam sighed remembering</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the joyful smile of Castiel and finding himself in the hug</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in which Dean had squeezed him a few hours earlier, just outside the library.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He heard the car park too early and a blink afterwards</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his eyes opened on</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the driveway of the house he had been calling</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> home only </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>for </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a few weeks </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>now. Luc turned off the engine and pulled</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the handbrake vigorously before getting out of the car</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with the same fury with which he had driven.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>G</span></span></span><span><span><span>et</span></span></span><span><span><span> your ass in the house” he hissed in S</span></span></span><span><span><span>am’s</span></span></span><span><span><span> direction before slamming the door and making broad strides towards the entrance.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The twenty-six-year-old closed</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his eyes </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>again</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in an attempt to escape the reality that was waiting for</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him, but it was only </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>for </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a moment. He wasn’t</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> distressed </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>enough not to realize</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> that keeping Luc waiting would only make his situation worse. But </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>the anxiety</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>surely</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> enough that, at the mere idea of </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>attempting an</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> escape, his stomach writhed in warning pangs and his legs stiffened even before the boy</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> could attempt a step. Then he opened his eyes again. Keeping them</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> down, he opened the door, got out of the car and followed Luc's footsteps to the landing with the precision of an automaton.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He crossed the threshold, passing </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>through</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the familiar black door as if he was</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> entering hell, then stopped just beyond the entrance mat. Luc motioned for him to close the door and he obeyed without breathing, grateful to </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>have the opportunity</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>buy some</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> time. But when he turned back, the thirty-one-year-old was three steps away from him and was pointing towards</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the living room.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Get inside," he only said, but it was enough for Sam to feel the blood drain</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> from his face and end up under his feet, leaving his cheeks</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> white as sheets</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and his legs </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>unstable.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Luc, I'm sorry about earlier," he tried to say, and all that came out was an awkward whisper. “But Dean...”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The older one did not let him continue, silencing him with a jerk of his arm.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Refrain from</span></span></span><span><span><span> justifying yourself. I don't g</span></span></span><span><span><span>ive a shit </span></span></span><span><span><span>about your fucking apologies.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam, backed into a</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> corner, felt his throat </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>go </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>suddenly dry and his eyes moisten instinctively. He could lie to others and even </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>to</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> himself </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>and put</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> all the efforts of the world into it, but his body had learned to recognize those preliminary situations and was trying hard to warn him. But something in Sam's psyche, whatever it was, kept him in that house and convinced him that words could still have some use with the man who should have been the love of his life.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Luc, please. Couldn't we just... sit down and talk about it? L</span></span></span><span><span><span>ike</span></span></span><span><span><span> we </span></span></span><span><span><span>used to do</span></span></span><span><span><span>. We talked a lot, do you remember?” he could not help r</span></span></span><span><span><span>eminding him</span></span></span><span><span><span>, sh</span></span></span><span><span><span>owing a broken smile</span></span></span><span><span><span>. “Please.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Luc granted him a few seconds of his icy gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I said,” he articulated then, in </span></span></span><span><span><span>such </span></span></span><span><span><span>a v</span></span></span><span><span><span>oice</span></span></span><span><span><span> that s</span></span></span><span><span><span>eemed to radiate</span></span></span><span><span><span> the words "last chance" from each note, “</span></span></span><span><span><span>get the fuck </span></span></span><span><span><span>i</span></span></span><span><span><span>n here</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam bit his lips, bit them until he could taste</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the blood. But then he walked, joined him. He entered the living room and, before he could realize</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> it, he was already in a corner with his back to the wall.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Cas stayed with his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband on the sofa until he was sure that the support of the arm around his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> shoulders had become more of a burden than a comfort. More than half an hour had</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to pass, but they both remained silent and waited unsuccessfully</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> for the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>abasement</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to give them a</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> break. When Dean finally got to his feet, he felt</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> defeated. For Cas it was no different, he was only more accustomed than his partner to mask his emotions even at the climax</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> of the crisis. Sam was a constant in the thoughts of both </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>men</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and having to sit back</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was threatening to wear them out quickly.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"I need to drink," Dean announced, heading to</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the kitchen.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Castiel watched him open the liquor cabinet, take out the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label he had given him the previous Christmas and pour two fingers into the first </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>clean </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>glass he found. That bottle had cost</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> an arm and a leg, but, once he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>got out of the budget restrictions</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> regime he had had to adapt to during his studies, Cas had discovered that he loved spending money for</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the people he loved. He also used to insist that, if Dean could not help but consume high alcohol </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>content </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>drinks, at least his husband could ensure he relied on a few</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> quality products. Dean always replied</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in the same way to his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> provocation, saying that he authorized him to spoil him, but not their future children. And Cas laughed, because he knew, he was sure Dean would have been</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the forgiving father.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But not that evening. That evening Dean just swallowed his Scotch whiskey and Cas watched him, sighing with one hand in front of his mouth as when he was thinking about one of the borderline cases that came to his study.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean was about to approach the bottle again when his smartphone rang. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Smoke on the water</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> boomed in the open space and both the gaze of the phone owner and Castiel's were drawn to the table in front of the sofa. The smartphone was spinning, vibrating, but what led Castiel to grab it</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> immediately was the name that appeared on the screen. The phone</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> nearly fell to the ground, w
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the thirty-five-year-old </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>took it and answered in a hurry.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Sam?” he c</span></span></span><span><span><span>alled</span></span></span><span><span><span> immediately, incredulous.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean thumped the whiskey down and rushed over to him as a faint voice answered on the other end of the line.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>Cas. Is... is Dean there?</em>”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Cas felt a knot tighten his stomach. His brother-in-law was barely holding back his tears.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I'll pu</span></span></span><span><span><span>t him on</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Dean took the phone from his hand without needing any other incentives.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Sam? Sammy?” he called frantically.</span></p>
<p>“<span><em>Dean...</em>”</span></p>
<p>“<span>What happened?” the eldest asked, looking into his husband's blue eyes without really seeing them.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"<span><em>I'm sorry about tonight, Dean,</em>" Sam sobbed, and Dean felt his natural </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>protective </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>instinct and related </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>desire to </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>destroy</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the threat reach the culmination of the evening. From then on it could only have exploded.<span><em> “I... I messed up, </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>I’m so </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>sorry.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span>Forget about it. Don't even think about it. What happened?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Why are you crying?</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was the question he wanted to ask him, but somehow he knew that using those precise words would </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>have </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>devastated</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> them both. If anything, it was time for action. Or rather, to react, just as his brother</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was finally having the courage to do, tearing one word at a time from his throat.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em>Dean, Luc... I think he h</em></span></span><span><span><em>as been drinking</em></span></span><span><span><em>, I think... I think...</em></span></span><span><span><span>”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span>What did he do? Did he beat you?”</span></p>
<p>“<span><em>Y-yes. </em><em>A</em><em>nd, Dean, he...</em>”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>This time the look Dean gave Castiel was totally aware. Not even a second later, without having to exchange a single nod, they were both at the entrance. Cas helped his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband put his jacket </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>on </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>and took his own, putting it under his arm and reaching out to be able to grab the keys of the Impala before his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband, who incinerated him with his eyes without obtaining anything. He should have expected Cas not to let him drive after that visit to</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the liquor cabinet.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>We're coming, Sam. Keep talking” Dean said, closing the door </span></span></span><span><span><span>of the apartment</span></span></span><span><span><span> behind him and hurrying down the corridor to reach his p</span></span></span><span><span><span>artner</span></span></span><span><span><span>.</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><em>Th</em></span></span><span><span><em>-then </em></span></span><span><span><em>he </em></span></span><span><span><em>wanted to </em></span></span><span><span><em>have s-sex</em></span></span><span><span><em>. He wanted to... I didn't want to, Dean, I said no, but he...</em></span></span><span><span><span>”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Suddenly realizing what his brother was trying to tell him </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>through</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> tears, Dean stumbled and nearly ended up with his face on the ground. Ashen on</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his face, he managed to reach the inside of the elevator, but he had to close his eyes, swallow and try to regain control of his breathing before replying. His heart could also continue to pound in his chest, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>so that he could</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> pump blood into his veins </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>as he felt the</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> wrath of God </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>pumping in there as well</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> – he</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> would need it, to kill Luc Benson –, but Sam needed his support. Dean forbade his voice to hesitate.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Sam, you have to listen to me very carefully </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>now," he said, mentally cursing the slowness of the cubicle that was taking him and Cas to the ground floor. “Where are you?”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>I-in the living room</em>.”</span></p>
<p>“<span>What about Luc?”</span></p>
<p>“<span><em>Upstairs, in the bathroom</em>.”</span></p>
<p>“<span>Can you walk?”</span></p>
<p>“<span><em>Y-yes</em>.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Finally the elevator doors opened wide and in a few seconds he and Cas were on the street, in front of the Impala. As Cas ran to drive, Dean catapulted into the passenger seat.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Get out of that house, Sam. Now. Don't go get anything. Take it easy, but leave. If you can, meet us in Myrtle Lane. D</span></span></span><span><span><span>o</span></span></span><span><span><span> you understand me?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He stood waiting</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> for </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>confirmation </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>for the longest time, while Cas made the tires screech with a firm start. Luc Benson's house was ten minutes away, with decent traffic. Eight, if Cas</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was driving on edge. Seven if the wheel was</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in the hands of someone who was seeing red, but Dean forced himself not to think about what would have changed if he had driven. If they had crashed because of his anger or his whiskey, nobody would have responded to Sam's request for help.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"<em>Yes</em>," his brother finally exhaled.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>G</span></span></span><span><span><span>ood</span></span></span><span><span><span>. We are coming” Dean nodded reflexively. “I'm coming, Sam. Keep talking w</span></span></span><span><span><span>ith</span></span></span><span><span><span> me, I need to know you're still there.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>His voice trembled for the first time on that last word, but the thirty-year-old ignored his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband's apprehensive gaze and raised a hand to his forehead to concentrate. He couldn't let go, not yet.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"<em>I'm here, Dean</em>," Sam obeyed, although his effort was clear. “<em>I'm... I'm going out</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean closed</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his eyes tightly and shook his head to keep his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> tears from returning to the surface</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> at the thought of what his brother had gone through while he was crying</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> on the sofa, assisted</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> by his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband. Understanding, Cas reached out to squeeze his shoulder and support</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>once again. Cas, who was keeping</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his eyes and his serious face</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> focused</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> on the road and who didn’t</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> know the most serious part of what had happened </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>yet. How many times had he taken care of</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> people bearing</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>the marks </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>of that kind of</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> violence on their</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> skin, with sexual abuses</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>on their shoulders? Castiel was forbidden to tell what his patients confided to him during psychotherapy sessions. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Yet, more than once, Dean had found himself </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>having to comfort</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in the middle of the night because the mere thought of the cruelty that the human being was capable of </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>could sometimes</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> annihilate even a professional</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> like him.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What would it have been like with Sam? Sam, who had just suffered too many burns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Rape. Call it</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> for what it</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> is, you stupid idiot</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>, Dean rebuked, feeling two hot tears roll down</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his cheeks.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"One step at a time, Sam," he said, realizing that he needed to keep talking as much as hearing his brother's voice. “And don't look back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The title was borrowed from the verse "It's always darkest before the dawn" of the song "Shake it out" by Florence + The Machine.<br/>Keep the faith, the story is not all dark. We just need to give the sun some time to rise.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. I will take care of you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The journey to the boulevard of immaculate </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>detached </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>houses</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> where Sam had moved two months earlier seemed interminable both </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>to</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Dean and his tense muscles.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>During the car ride, he had lost Sam. A minute</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> earlier his brother was stammering something on the phone, a few words just to keep in touch, and the following</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> moment the line had gone dead, freezing Dean's heart before it</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> started beating madly again. In that instant, the plea he had addressed to his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband had accomplished an unparalleled miracle and Castiel had accelerated to reach</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> nearly sixty miles per hour in a residential area. Hadn't </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>been busy remembering how to get</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> air </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>into his lungs, Dean would have made a note to</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> himself to make sure</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to rub his face into it</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> for the rest of his irreproachable citizen’s life.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>When Cas braked and stopped</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> a few meters </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>away </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>from Luc Benson's house, Dean felt he was about to explode. He had kept his eyes fixed on the sidewalk to his right all the way from Myrtle Lane, but there was no sign of Sam. Without waiting for his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband – and without Cas doing anything to stop him –, he rushed out of the Impala and ran towards the driveway of number 66 on Fairview Avenue, following a simple impulse until he found the courage</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to look up. Then he found himself stifling a groan.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The front door of the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>elegant </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>detached house</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was wide open and the landing was illuminated by the warm light of the corridor that Dean remembered walking</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> before a dinner he hadn't digested. A little further down, at </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>street level, just before the</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> three steps leading to the entrance, Sam was trudging behind Luc. The blond was holding</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him firmly by the arm and it could have been said that he was dragging him by force, if only Sam’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> tall figure had not appeared so resigned</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and submissive. The road was empty</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> at that hour of the night and Dean took a few more steps to be able to distinguish the voices of the two over their fast</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> breathing and the drum that was beating</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in his temples.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>This is the last t</span></span></span><span><span><span>hing you do </span></span></span><span><span><span>to me, </span></span></span><span><span><span>baby doll.</span></span></span><span><span><span> Yet I</span></span></span><span><span><span>had </span></span></span><span><span><span>warned you, h</span></span></span><span><span><span>adn’t</span></span></span><span><span><span> I</span></span></span><span><span><span>? I </span></span></span><span><span><span>had </span></span></span><span><span><span>told you that provoking me was not a good idea.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span>Luc... please, Luc...”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Luc's voice was as</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> irritating </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>as usual, but Sam's made Dean react. The thirty-year-old hadn't heard that pleading tone for several years. And if in his mind</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> that sound was a constant of his childhood, because at a very young age Sam had been a capricious child, the memory of the last time he had heard that</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> triggered Dean's instinct as</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the eldest</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> brother.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>It was a memory </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>that belonged</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> three and a half</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> years earlier, when Sam had come back</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> home from university after learning of John Winchester's death. When recalling</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> it, Dean still managed to grasp every detail of the hug</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with which he had tried to console Sam</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in his despair. The scent of his </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>little </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>brother's aftershave </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>lotion, the warmth of his cheek on his shoulder, his voice broken by tears. The broken voice with which he had begged Dean</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to tell him that it was not true, that he was not going to see his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> father in a coffin, not before having had the opportunity to talk it out</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with him for all those years of fights</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and mutual disappointments. That was the voice Sam was pleading </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>his rat boyfriend with, who in response pulled</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him mercilessly into the house, making him disappear from Dean and Castiel’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> sight.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Benson!”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean’s roar</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in the still air of the night made his target</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> turn around immediately. Standing in the doorway, Luc Benson leaned against the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>threshold</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with one shoulder, holding the door with his left hand and giving a heinous smile to Dean and his husband</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> behind him. Only in that instant, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>when he was </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>already on the first of the steps</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> of the landing, did the thirty-year-old realize that Cas had joined him.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Look w</span></span></span><span><span><span>ho's back. The wrecker and his dear wife</span></span></span><span><span><span>y</span></span></span><span><span><span> in tow” the thirty-one-</span></span></span><span><span><span>y</span></span></span><span><span><span>ear-old welcomed them. “To what do I owe th</span></span></span><span><span><span>is pain in my ass?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Loyal</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to the disgust he had always felt towards Sam's boyfriend and his manners, Dean wasted no time in holding back.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Let me in, you piece of shit.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>After loading his arm with the anger that was now flowing through his veins, he managed to unhinge the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>owner of the house</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> from the entrance with a single, energetic push on the chest. A blink of an eye later </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>they were inside, against the first available wall, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>with </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean's forearm</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>pressed against Luc's throat </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>with enough strength to</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> keep him</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>on his tiptoes. Yet his only reaction was to grin in the face of his assailant.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>O</span></span></span><span><span><span>h, what a</span></span></span><span><span><span>m I supposed to</span></span></span><span><span><span> do with you, Sammy?” </span></span></span><span><span><span>h</span></span></span><span><span><span>e sighed aloud, f</span></span></span><span><span><span>aking</span></span></span><span><span><span> regret and rolling his eyes. “I told you it was a private party and what’</span></span></span><span><span><span>s the very next thing</span></span></span><span><span><span> you do? </span></span></span><span><span><span>You c</span></span></span><span><span><span>all your b</span></span></span><span><span><span>uddies</span></span></span><span><span><span>. You really t</span></span></span><span><span><span>ry</span></span></span><span><span><span> your best to make Dad</span></span></span><span><span><span>dy</span></span></span><span><span><span> m</span></span></span><span><span><span>ad</span></span></span><span><span><span>, don't you?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean was one step away from punching him in the nose when he noticed</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Cas had overcome both of them. Then, just for a moment, he allowed himself to take his eyes off Luc Benson's sardonic expression to follow the sound of his </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>husband’s </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>footsteps with his eyes. A moment later he wished he never had.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam was on the ground, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>curled up</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> at the base of the glass staircase that led to the first floor, conscious but thrown there like a dishcloth to wash. His</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> hair was messy, his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> face was sweaty and swollen, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>with</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>the extra gift of </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a bleeding temple, and his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> red, blue and white </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>checkered</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> shirt – a present</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> from Dean – ripped apart all the way</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> chest. When Cas crouched in front of him and held out a hand to touch his shoulder and help him, a primordial instinct led the younger man to clasp his knees to his chest with even more force and to tighten his eyelids, as if he had not </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>even </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>recognized his brother-in-law.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean saw his tears and, in the silence of that moment, he heard the sobs that were making his little brother</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> jump. Blinded by anger, he hardly noticed that he had thrown the long-awaited punch in the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>perpetrator’s </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>face. The groan that escaped from Luc Benson's loose mouth was immediately followed by a scream that Dean would later recognize as</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> a warning from Cas. But at that point</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> all he could focus on was the giggle that slid onto the bloody lip he had just hit.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Come on, hit me again," the thirty-one-year-old said in a whisper. “It will be delightful to have my lawyer </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>bleed you dry.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean crushed all his weight on his neck, feeling himself on fire.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>You motherfucker, I'm gonna kill you for what you did to him.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Luc shrugged, pulling</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his lower lip out like an innocent child.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I don't know what you're talking about. We were having a lot of fun before you two k</span></span></span><span><span><span>illjoys</span></span></span><span><span><span> s</span></span></span><span><span><span>tole</span></span></span><span><span><span> the ball.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean was about to pull his arm back again. The lawyers, the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>whole</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> law, his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> reputation, his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> job </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>could kiss his ass, all he</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> wanted </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>to do was to </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>unload all the punches that he would have been able to throw at that human carcass. He was about to let himself go when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Dean," Cas's voice called him, calm but with a deep shiver. “</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Let’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> go. Please.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean closed his eyes. He knew that Cas had picked Sam up</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> from the floor, that he had put an arm around his shoulders and that he was now leading him, one meter at a time, to the outside, where he would have been</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> safe. He</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> imagined Castiel</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> whispering</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> words </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>of comfort </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>to his brother</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> at every step </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>of the way</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and he</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was aware that his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband had stopped to speak to him because he knew he needed it to get out of that situation without finding himself with serious charges pressed</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> against him. Until then all Dean</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> had allowed himself was a single punch, but Castiel knew him well enough to know that he could </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>have </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>added</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>more, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>enough to beat</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Luc Benson unconscious.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean was still summoning his willpower when his younger brother's last nightmare provoked</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>again.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>You better l</span></span></span><span><span><span>isten</span></span></span><span><span><span> to your fuck </span></span></span><span><span><span>buddy</span></span></span><span><span><span>, big boy. Or you'll </span></span></span><span><span><span>get</span></span></span><span><span><span> into s</span></span></span><span><span><span>erious</span></span></span><span><span><span> trouble” he chanted.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Dean stared at him with burning hatred for a few more seconds, but then he pushed him away.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>You’</span></span></span><span><span><span>re gonna receive </span></span></span><span><span><span>a fucking restraining order” he hissed, pointing a finger at him as Castiel and Sam slowly walked down the three steps of the entrance and gained ground towards the Impala. “You better respect it, or s</span></span></span><span><span><span>o help me...”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Luc kept his distance but let </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>guttural laughter resound</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in the corridor.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I'll h</span></span></span><span><span><span>appily use it to</span></span></span><span><span><span> clean my ass, Winchester.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span>Dean” Cas called from the garden, in a tone which was something between alarmed and exasperated. “Come on.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Aware</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> that his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband just wanted to keep him out of trouble, Dean finally turned his back on the thirty-one-year-old's grin and joined Sam and Castiel with great strides, rushing to take Cas's place in supporting his brother. Sam was keeping</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his eyes fixed on the ground and </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>didn’t seem to</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> notice his arrival.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm here, Sammy," Dean said anyway, swallowing. “It's over. I'm here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Let Sammy know that </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>he’ll receive</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>my roses," Luc yelled after him. “You know, Dean, that he’s gonna</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> be</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> back</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> into my arms</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> before you two girls </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>can </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>manage to say "bitch", don’t you?”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"He's just provoking you," Cas said, covering his partner’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> growl</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with his common sense as he walked around the car. “He wants your</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> reaction, nothing else. Don't play his game. Keep walking.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean just</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> nodded and, as he reached out to open the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>back door of the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Impala, he consoled himself </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>thinking</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> that those words could also help</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Sam, despite the state of shock in which he seemed to be drowning.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean let Cas return behind the wheel</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> so he could get into the back seat with Sam. The dark-haired man</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> left immediately, but maintained a much more peaceful</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> speed than that of the first </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>ride, both because he had exceeded</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> too many limits for one night and to facilitate Sam's recovery. Dean, for his part, was grateful when, at the touch of his hand on the shoulder, his brother did not pull away or show </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>any </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>sign of distress. In fact, it took Sam less than a minute to silence the sobs and wipe his face with the back of his hand. When the resemblance to the boy he</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> had been </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>at </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>eleven became too much to bear, Dean turned to his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>How far </span></span></span><span><span><span>away</span></span></span><span><span><span> is the E.</span></span></span><span><span><span>R.</span></span></span><span><span><span>?” he asked with some urgency.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Cas could barely open his mouth, then Sam cut off his answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"No. No hospital," he said in a voice so hoarse that it was barely audible above the purr</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> of the engine.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean barely squeezed his shoulder, trying to put on</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> a reassuring smile.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Don't worry, they'll sew you up in an instant," he said, motioning</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to the cut on his temple. “And they'll check...”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"No, please," Sam insisted, turning to him and looking him in the eye for the first time since he left the dinner table, an hour or maybe a century earlier. Ironically, he ended up expressing the same desire as then, but now there </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>was no hatred in those irises, only an unsustainable sense of annihilation. “I just wanna go home.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean swallowed, finding it more difficult than ever to shake his head at the request.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I'm sorry, little brother, but you need to see a doctor.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>seemed to be making a huge effort to keep talking. If only his brother had realized how much embarrassment, how much shame that situation had poured onto</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him, how difficult it was to make him understand how helpless and exposed he felt at that moment. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Even if someone</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> had forced him to go home on foot, naked from </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>his </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>head to his feet, Dean could not have understood. Nobody could understand it. Not now, not</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>anymore.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>No” was all that Sam managed to p</span></span></span><span><span><span>rotest with</span></span></span><span><span><span>, w</span></span></span><span><span><span>ith his</span></span></span><span><span><span> voice now vibrat</span></span></span><span><span><span>ing</span></span></span><span><span><span> with an intolerance that was too weak to </span></span></span><span><span><span>be </span></span></span><span><span><span>express</span></span></span><span><span><span>ed properly</span></span></span><span><span><span>. He tried to calm himself with a couple of deep breaths, then returned to the alarmed eyes of his older brother. “Please, </span></span></span><span><span><span>just</span></span></span><span><span><span> take me home. Please.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean seemed to feel a </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>sudden </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>crack compromising his heart. If they hadn’t been</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in the middle of that nightmare, at that time he would have accused his brother of taking advantage of him and his inability to resist those</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> sad</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> puppy </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>eyes. It was working so well that he had to force his next words out of his mouth.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Sam, y</span></span></span><span><span><span>ou need to</span></span></span><span><span><span> let s</span></span></span><span><span><span>omeone</span></span></span><span><span><span> take</span></span></span><span><span><span> a look </span></span></span><span><span><span>at you</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean hadn't noticed</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> all the frowning looks his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband had been giving</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him during that stubborn exchange, but he couldn't help but see the last of them</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> when the car pulled up to an anonymous sidewalk. They were still far from home, so the thirty-year-old looked for his partner’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> blue eyes in the rearview mirror to ask him a silent question with furrowed eyebrows.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Dean," Cas said in response. “Can we talk for a minute?”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He left immediately afterwards, giving him no choice but to follow him.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>We're j</span></span></span><span><span><span>ust outside</span></span></span><span><span><span>, Sammy. </span></span></span><span><span><span>We’ll be</span></span></span><span><span><span> back i</span></span></span><span><span><span>n a moment”</span></span></span><span><span><span> Dean assured for h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is brother’s</span></span></span><span><span><span> benefit.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam just</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> tightened his arms around his body and began to study</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the half-lit road. Dean got out of the car and joined Castiel, who had gone a few meters away, spreading his arms in a confused expression.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>What's g</span></span></span><span><span><span>oing on</span></span></span><span><span><span>?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>His</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband had the same uneasy look he had</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> when Dean insisted on going to work with the flu. Bad sign.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Perhaps it would be better to avoid the hospital” were his first words.</span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>W</span></span></span><span><span><span>hat</span></span></span><span><span><span>?” Dean exclaimed incredulously, before being persuaded by </span></span></span><span><span><span>the other’s </span></span></span><span><span><span>movement</span></span></span><span><span><span>s</span></span></span><span><span><span> to k</span></span></span><span><span><span>eep</span></span></span><span><span><span> his voice </span></span></span><span><span><span>down</span></span></span><span><span><span>. “Cas, we don't know how far that son of a bitch went. H</span></span></span><span><span><span>e</span></span></span><span><span><span> has to be medicated, we have to make sure n</span></span></span><span><span><span>othing’s</span></span></span><span><span><span> broken and...”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>And you want evidence of </span></span></span><span><span><span>the </span></span></span><span><span><span>rape to be able to use it in court against Luc” Castiel concluded for him, the effort to hold b</span></span></span><span><span><span>ack</span></span></span><span><span><span> the evident agitation </span></span></span><span><span><span>showing </span></span></span><span><span><span>on the serious folds of his face.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>For a moment Dean forgot the key to the word store and stood looking at him with his lips parted, stunned. He remembered well that he hadn’t said a word</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> about</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the worst abuse his brother had suffered.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>How do you know that he was...?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>There was no need to complete the sentence. Castiel crossed his arms in front of his chest, shrugged and sighed, casting a dark glance towards the Impala.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Luc had already beaten him. Several times, </span></span></span><span><span><span>I</span></span></span><span><span><span> guess. It had become </span></span></span><span><span><span>the </span></span></span><span><span><span>routine for Sam. We wouldn't have received that call if something else hadn't happened. And then I saw h</span></span></span><span><span><span>im</span></span></span><span><span><span>, Dean.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The thirty-year-old </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>hardly </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>swallowed, seeing Sam again</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> on the floor of that corridor, with his clothes torn </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>apart</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and the eyes</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> of a stray </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>trapped </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>on the highway. Destroyed. Yes, he was able to understand how Cas had come to the right conclusion, perhaps even the most obvious, but he still could not understand why he wanted to give way to Sam's fears instead of persuading him to follow the right way, as</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> difficult </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>as it would have been.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>D</span></span></span><span><span><span>on't </span></span></span><span><span><span>you </span></span></span><span><span><span>want to make sure that asshole goes to jail?” he asked then, turning his eyes to h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is husband’s</span></span></span><span><span><span> with renewed severity.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Cas didn't even bother to move his gaze away.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>What I want is for h</span></span></span><span><span><span>im</span></span></span><span><span><span> to stay away from your brother.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Exactly” Dean </span></span></span><span><span><span>hissed</span></span></span><span><span><span>, feeling the wrath for Luc Benson mount in his chest once again. “And I want him to r</span></span></span><span><span><span>ot</span></span></span><span><span><span> for everything he's done, including... God, I can't even say </span></span></span><span><span><span>it</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Devastated by the thought of what had happened – of what he had let happen – he had to put a hand on his face again to rub his eyes and calm down. Although their opinions diverged, his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband was immediately at his side and put his hands on his shoulders.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Dean, I'm with you. I understand how you feel, </span></span></span><span><span><span>I </span></span></span><span><span><span>really </span></span></span><span><span><span>do</span></span></span><span><span><span>, but stop for a moment and listen to me” he urged him, managing to g</span></span></span><span><span><span>et</span></span></span><span><span><span> his attention on himself again. “Sam is </span></span></span><span><span><span>so</span></span></span><span><span><span> fragile right now. Y</span></span></span><span><span><span>ou could say</span></span></span><span><span><span> that h</span></span></span><span><span><span>e</span></span></span><span><span><span> could break at any moment a</span></span></span><span><span><span>nd it would still be</span></span></span><span><span><span> an understatement. Do you know how many </span></span></span><span><span><span>people</span></span></span><span><span><span> come to my stud</span></span></span><span><span><span>y</span></span></span><span><span><span> in h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is</span></span></span><span><span><span> s</span></span></span><span><span><span>tate</span></span></span><span><span><span>?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Dean took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face before nodding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"I can imagine that," he admitted softly. “But...”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>And </span></span></span><span><span><span>do </span></span></span><span><span><span>you also know h</span></span></span><span><span><span>ow</span></span></span><span><span><span> many times, as a psychotherapist, I find myself having to m</span></span></span><span><span><span>ake up for</span></span></span><span><span><span> the d</span></span></span><span><span><span>amages</span></span></span><span><span><span> caused by doctors who, due to poor psychological t</span></span></span><span><span><span>raining</span></span></span><span><span><span>, cannot be delicate enough and end up aggravating a trauma simply by doing their j</span></span></span><span><span><span>ob</span></span></span><span><span><span>? The victims of sexual abuse are crystal statues” Castiel continued, determined to make him recognize that part of truth too. “If your brother doesn't want to go to the hospital and get a rape kit </span></span></span><span><span><span>done</span></span></span><span><span><span>, maybe we should listen to him an</span></span></span><span><span><span>d to hell with</span></span></span><span><span><span> evidence. Right now, </span></span></span><span><span><span>we have to take care of Sam</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The harshness of that sentence</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> took Dean's breath away, but he recovered at the thought of the alternative.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>But then that bastard will get away with it.”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>How about </span></span></span><span><span><span>we recommend</span></span></span><span><span><span> Sam to </span></span></span><span><span><span>go</span></span></span><span><span><span> to the hospital tomorrow and see if he change</span></span></span><span><span><span>s</span></span></span><span><span><span> his mind? Also, consider that we will still get a restraining order </span></span></span><span><span><span>anyway </span></span></span><span><span><span>and Sam will never have to see that man again. I can </span></span></span><span><span><span>promise</span></span></span><span><span><span> you” Cas went on, </span></span></span><span><span><span>getting </span></span></span><span><span><span>soft. Then he pursed his lips and took his hands in his. “Dean, I just want the best for Sam. Can you trust me on this?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Dean concentrated on those eyes long enough to know he was screwed. Finally he sighed again, pretending to suffer when he was actually grateful to have Castiel to remind him of his priorities.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>You know I trust you” was all he said before they both returned to their respective seats in the car.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Peeking into the rearview mirror, Castiel gave a gentle smile to the young man who was pressed against the window and to the uncertainty that was evident</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> on his face.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>No hospital, Sam. Let's go home.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean recorded the hint of amazement on his younger brother's exhausted face before Sam nodded shyly in Cas’s direction, murmuring a worn-out: “Thanks.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>After that, silence returned among</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> them and the warm roar of the engine was the only noise that accompanied them to Hawthorne Lane.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Sam, we still have to make sure you don't need immediate treatment. I'm sure you understand” Castiel began after p</span></span></span><span><span><span>lacing</span></span></span><span><span><span> a bottle on the bedside table, next to the lamp and the clock radio with phosphorescent hands.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>As soon as they had got home, Dean had walked</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Sam to the guest bedroom at the end of the corridor of the sleeping area. Without forcing him, he had watched him take off his shoes and climb onto the square </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>and a half </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>bed until he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>crouched against the pillow resting on the headboard. Then the eldest</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> had sat down next to him, crinkling</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the coral-colored comforter to lean towards Sam</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and put a hand on his knee with all the calm</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> he had managed to recover.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The twenty-six-year-old had looked up abruptly, but had not winced</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>relaxed as soon as his brother's green irises had offered him a sad smile. In that instant Cas had joined them, interrupting the moment to strike a blow for</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Dean's apprehension. Even a </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>sucker for </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>psychology like Castiel could not deny that the physical injuries that Sam had suffered were the priority at that juncture.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>M</span></span></span><span><span><span>ay</span></span></span><span><span><span> I call Jody?” the thirty-five year old </span></span></span><span><span><span>suggested</span></span></span><span><span><span>, cautious, holding out a full glass of water to Sam after doing the same for h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is</span></span></span><span><span><span> husband. “I promise you s</span></span></span><span><span><span>he</span></span></span><span><span><span> won't do anything you don't want </span></span></span><span><span><span>her to</span></span></span><span><span><span>. You s</span></span></span><span><span><span>et</span></span></span><span><span><span> the limits.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam dragged himself to a sitting position and sat</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> still, with the glass in his hands resting on one thigh and his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> feet touching the floor, like a child in the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>headmaster’s office, and Dean watched him think about it. His</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> brother knew Jody well, like everyone else in that house, and he had let her visit </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>him</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> over the years, both </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>for a sore throat or to remove some stitches. She and Cas had become</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> friends during elementary school and had never given up </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>on each other, surviving the jealousies of a bunch</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> of boyfriends </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>from both sides.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>If I didn't know that Cas has a really repugnant allergic reaction every time he sees a naked woman on television, I would have already killed her</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>, Dean used to say to justify his affection for the woman who</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was now a close friend of both, deserving the punctual revenge of his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband – a conciliatory whack upside the head</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in the presence of strangers or parents, a merciless slap on the butt if only Sam and a few friends were around.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>After her regular medical degree, Jody had specialized in forensic medicine and now </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>for most of the time she</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> had to deal with patients </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>who were </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>no longer able to complain. Her favorites, as she used to say. In fact, helping people was still as much of a passion for her</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> as it</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> had been during her first year of college, so she made sure she kept her basic medical knowledge in training and provided</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> occasional free medical care to those who were brave</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> enough to trust her </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>restless </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>temperament. Among them stood Cas and family.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Can s</span></span></span><span><span><span>he</span></span></span><span><span><span> come here?” Sam finally asked with a small voice, looking up at Castiel.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>The latter nodded with a reassuring smile.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I'm sure it won't be a problem.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The twenty-six-year-old agreed with a nod and Cas vanished, leaving the two brothers alone. Almost immediately, though slowly, Sam curled up on the mattress again, his back on the pillow and his gaze fixed on the wall behind his brother. Dean parted his lips to say something, but his voice got stuck in his throat as soon as he saw the tears start running</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> down his brother's cheeks again.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Instinctively, he got</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> closer, but did not dare touch him. He had started to shake</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> again.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Sam...”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He stopped again when Sam looked him in the eye. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He hadn't seen him cry in his presence for so long. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Last time, it was just before Dad's funeral. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Too long </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>ago. He, Dean, his older brother, had not been there every time Sam had been knocked to the ground by Luc Benson's smacks. He</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>not</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> been </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>there for Sam's</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>tears.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam fought against tears and against himself to be able to speak. Words that took his brother's breath away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Dean, don't... don't tell </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Mom," he begged. He tried to continue the sentence, but an onset</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> of sobs cut his voice and made him collapse completely. A moment later, Sam was shaking his head feverishly, with his eyelids tightened and a hand crushed on his face in a miserable attempt to hide from the pain that was consuming him. “Oh God, Dean, please, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>please</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>, don't tell </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Mom.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean never knew how he didn't cry in return. Later he would have remembered his arms moving on their own initiative and rushing to support his brother, trying in vain to soothe his devastated soul.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>All right. </span></span></span><span><span><span>That’s o</span></span></span><span><span><span>kay, Sammy, I won't tell h</span></span></span><span><span><span>er</span></span></span><span><span><span>. D</span></span></span><span><span><span>on’t worry”</span></span></span><span><span><span> Dean listened </span></span></span><span><span><span>to himself saying</span></span></span><span><span><span>. A</span></span></span><span><span><span>n instant</span></span></span><span><span><span> l</span></span></span><span><span><span>ater he</span></span></span><span><span><span> somehow managed to break through Sam's terror </span></span></span><span><span><span>and that was </span></span></span><span><span><span>enough to convince him to accept his hug. “C</span></span></span><span><span><span>alm down</span></span></span><span><span><span>, I'm here. Everything will be fine. I'm here, now. You'll be fine.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>What followed would have chased him in his dreams for months to come.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Without saying anything, continuing to cry, Sam released </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>from his hug&gt;. But, against all expectations, he did not retreat far </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>away, in</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> a corner. Instead, he laid</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> down on the mattress, curling up, and placed his left cheek on his brother's lap. Dean held his breath, but his hands seemed to have been waiting for that dive into the past. Without hesitation, his fingers began to caress Sam's head, slipping gently between his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> long locks</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> of brown hair.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>How long had it been since they last brought their precious little ritual</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to life? During their childhood, whenever Sam got angry, closed himself in their</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> room and burst into tears for some unfairness, a scolding or some punishment he had suffered, Dean was the only one able to make him go to the kitchen for dinner or to convince him to go to bed. Their mother called it "Dean's little magic".</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean knew his brother. He knew how to </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>get</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him, how to talk to him – most of the time. But above all, he knew his secret. He knew that Sam craved the comfort of physical contact. A hug or, in severe cases, those fingers in his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> hair, the protection provided by the body of his older brother who watched over his. Dean had always been the only one who understood that part of him.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>And while </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>he was</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> trying to distract him from an inconsolable ache which was</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> thousands years </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>away</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> from the nonsense that </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>they </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had dared to call problems as kids, Dean recognized him. He recognized in Sam the child he</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> had been, who had needed</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and still desperately needed him to tell him that everything would </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>have</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> been all right. The bullies at school would have been silenced. His best friend would have forgiven him. Mom would </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>have </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>shown</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> up at his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> next soccer match. A few hours and </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dad would not have been</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> mad at him at him anymore. Luc Benson would have </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>got </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>what he deserved.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>I remember you</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>, Dean</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> would have liked to whisper to his </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>baby </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>brother, while the boy's sobs shook the walls of the apartment and the eldest’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> fingers caressed his head calmly, without stopping. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>I will take care of you.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span><br/>
</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To all of you reading and leaving kudos, but especially leaving comments, thank you. You are precious souls. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and can't wait to know what you think.<br/>A hug to everyone – even you, silent readers – and see you soon!<br/>*throws bags of rainbow pastries into the air and rolls away panda-style*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Drill sergeant mode</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>It had not been more than ten minutes since Cas </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>reached the</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> living room with his cellphone, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>when</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Jody knocked on his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> apartment's front door.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>After all, the woman lived in the same building, only two floors below</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> – which only confirmed Dean's theory that she and Castiel had made a blood pact in first grade and because of it they could never spend</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> too much time apart. If Cas had been able to hear those thoughts buzzing in Dean's mind when Jody arrived, he would have given him an</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> admonishing glance, one of those that usually managed to make the youngest of the couple grin. Instead, when Cas appeared </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>on the doorway of the guest room, a couple of minutes later, he merely nodded in his husband’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> direction.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Reluctantly, Dean left his brother to</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Jody's care, while struggling to return her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> smile. The doctor greeted Sam with quiet warmth, but the boy's response was muffled</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> by the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>bedroom door </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>closing. At that point, Dean had nothing left to do but follow his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband to the living area, dragging his feet like a child at the end of summer holidays.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Both of them sat on the sofa and stayed</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> there, waiting. After a few seconds, Castiel put his arm around his partner’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> shoulders, caressing his shoulder in an attempt to quell the spark of resentment that still shone in his eyes. Dean understood his message and made an effort to be</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> good for as long as possible, but after ten minutes of absolute silence the immense heat he had felt building up inside exploded in his stomach.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Son of a bitch... son of a bitch!” he snarled, jumping to his feet and starting to walk </span></span><span><span>around </span></span><span><span>the living room with </span></span><span><span>long </span></span><span><span>strides under </span></span><span><span>the</span></span><span><span> amazed eyes of Cas, who had felt h</span></span><span><span>im</span></span><span><span> slip </span></span><span><span>away</span></span><span><span> from under his fingers without warning. “I'</span></span><span><span>m gonna</span></span><span><span> kill him. I swear I'</span></span><span><span>m gonna</span></span><span><span> kill him. As soon as Jody gets out of there and tells me that everything is fine, because everything h</span></span><span><span>as to</span></span><span><span> be fine, I’</span></span><span><span>ll</span></span><span><span> take the car, go to that walking shit’</span></span><span><span>s house</span></span><span><span> and take h</span></span><span><span>im</span></span><span><span> out!”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Once he adapted his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> pace to his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> reasoning, his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Dean...”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>The thirty-year-old knew how to recognize the start of one of his sermons when he heard the tone.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>No, Cas, not this time. Don't look at me like that” he stopped him, shaking his head and raising his index finger in his direction to prevent the rest of the lecture. “I don't care what you have to s</span></span><span><span>ay</span></span><span><span>, I </span></span><span><span>have</span></span><span><span> to kill him and I have to kill him tonight.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Cas frowned and his eyes narrowed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Dean," he repeated, more resolute </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>this time, and the other man</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> turned back to him with a look of pure exasperation.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>What?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Without conceding anything in terms of severity, his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband let his gaze wander from the entrance of</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the corridor leading to the sleeping area of </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the apartment, only to return to the fury in his eyes.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"You have to calm down," he added in his forcibly measured tone, marking</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his point as he would have done with a drunkard about to scream among the beds of a nursery. “Jody is visiting Sam in the room </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>next door.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>As much as he was ready to admit that his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband was often right, as well as the gift of being able to</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> bring him back to Earth and to a behavior that could have been seen acceptable by an</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> average human, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>this </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>time Dean put</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his foot</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> down, feeling his nails sticking</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> into the palms of his hands.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Yes, exactly, and </span></span><span><span>do you </span></span><span><span>remember why? B</span></span><span><span>ecause</span></span><span><span> that asshole beat my brother </span></span><span><span>bloody</span></span><span><span>and</span></span><span><span> he... he... Christ, Cas, </span></span><span><span>can</span></span><span><span>'t you understand how I feel? I couldn't help giving </span></span><span><span><em>my father</em></span></span><span><span> a</span></span><span><span> hard time</span></span><span><span>, when he g</span></span><span><span>ave</span></span><span><span> Sam </span></span><span><span>a slap</span></span><span><span>, and now that i</span></span><span><span>nsane</span></span><span><span> pig d</span></span><span><span>ared</span></span><span><span>...”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He had raised his voice</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> without even realizing it, yet Cas did not seem to have the strength to stop him, not that evening. As soon as his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband started shouting, he pressed a hand on his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> eyes and took a deep breath to remain present to </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>himself</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and look for a way to mend the rifts</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> that had torn Dean's sense of measure.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Castiel</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> was tired too, after all. Having aspired</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> all his life to investigate</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the depths of human souls</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> had not been helpful</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to prepare him for what he had experienced that evening, not when the people injured by the events were also those closest to his heart, and he couldn’t take</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> it </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>anymore. Not without a </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>good</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> night sleep, at least, or so it seemed.</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Jody </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>was the one who </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had to intervene, as soon as </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>she emerged from the corridor, to tame the fire that was raging beneath Dean's feet.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Gentlemen” he called them to order, g</span></span><span><span>etting</span></span><span><span> the attention of both and also managing to silence Dean on the spot. Waiting for them they found an unequivocal and bitter expression of reproach. “You’</span></span><span><span>re aware</span></span><span><span> that Sam and I are on a plasterboard wall away and therefore we can hear everything you are s</span></span><span><span>aying</span></span><span><span> so elegantly with your sweet tones, a</span></span><span><span>ren’t you</span></span><span><span>?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Even though she was rebuking</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>them </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>for the small</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> respect shown towards Sam, her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> eyes immediately became as benevolent as those of an understanding mother as soon as Cas stood up with a sigh, scratching his head in embarrassment.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Yes, Jody. Forgive us.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>When Cas gave him an eloquent glance, Dean also hurriedly bowed his head, feeling an almost forgotten warmth appearing on</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his cheeks.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Sorry” he muttered, knowing that the fault was all his, biting his lower lip.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Jody stared at them with her arms crossed </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>on her chest </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>and her eyebrows </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>stayed </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>up</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> for a few more seconds; then she expelled the air that she had held in her lungs, shook her head and motioned for them to follow her before disappearing</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> once again in the corridor. Dean and Cas followed her </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>silently, like two reprimanded</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> puppies, but they forgot what had just happened as soon as they were admitted back </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>in</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>to the guest room.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam sat cross-legged on the bed and looked better. Of course, he still had a rather swollen cheekbone and the joy of life of a soul reaper </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>showed </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>on his face, but he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>was </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>no longer shaking</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and there was almost no trace of tears left on his face. When they entered, he kept his eyes fixed on his doctor and almost returned her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> thoughtful smile.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dean had no idea what had happened, but he wanted to kiss Jody on the lips. He could not fail to give at least a little credit to that woman and the calmness with which she approached each of her patients, ending up overcoming their</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> reluctance.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"That's it, Sam, we're done," Jody announced after putting a white patch on the twenty-six-year-old's temple, over the newly stitched wound. “In the next few hours, if you want my opinion, you should just rest. Obviously, you’ll have</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to see if your brother’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> serene soul will allow it.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time, Dean felt the warmth reach the top of his ears and looked down to the ground when Cas and Jody exchanged a look and then gave him a condescending smile. It was Sam's weak voice that made him emerge from the embarrassment.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Dean?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>The thirty-year-old held his breath and took a few steps towards the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Yes, Sammy?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>"Don't go anywhere," the youngest pleaded, looking him in the eye. “Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dean swallowed, thinking about the words he had yelled</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> in the living room and wishing with all his heart</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to be able to take them back. Not because he didn't want to strangle Luc Benson </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>anymore</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> – and shoot him, spear him, behead him, burn him at the stake –, but at the thought of having further troubled his brother.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>O</span></span><span><span>f course</span></span><span><span>. I'm here, I'm staying here” he nodded instantly, sitting in front of him on the mattress. His eyes could not let go of Sam's and the young man barely refrained from taking t</span></span><span><span>he boy’s</span></span><span><span> face in his hands before telling him what had been wearing him out since he was made aware of what had happened. “But you have to promise me that, </span></span><span><span>as soon as you’ll feel better,</span></span><span><span> we will go to the police and you will tell everything </span></span><span><span>that happened</span></span><span><span>. I want a judge to know everything that asshole did to you, </span></span><span><span>so that he</span></span><span><span> can take all the necessary m</span></span><span><span>easures</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>He recognized a flash in Sam's eyes, but did not have enough time to decipher it. For some reason, his brother ran to look for Cas's eyes, who nodded gravely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Our</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> aim </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>is</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to get a temporary restraining order within next week," the eldest</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> explained, supporting his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband's stance.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam watched him for a few seconds, motionless. Then, to the amazement of everyone, he snorted into something that looked tremendously like a bitter giggle, retreating against the headboard of the bed and away from his brother.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"I really raised you right," he said, and everyone would have been happy to hear him </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>say a </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>joke, if only his voice hadn't had that </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>acerbic</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> bottom. “Now nobody </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>could guess</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> which </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>one </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>of us wanted to become a lawyer.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dean did not know what to think of that attitude, but he was in too much of a hurry to receive a positive response to allow himself to think about</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> it for a long time.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Do you promise me?” he insisted therefore, leaning towards his younger brother.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>But Sam avoided his gaze. A moment later, he took another sip of water from the glass on the bedside table and laid down on the bed, placing himself on his side and thus hiding his face in the shadows. His last sentence of the day came like a puff to the ears of those in the room.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I'd like to get some sleep now.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Seeing him squeeze in front of his question, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Dean </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>opened his mouth to protest. It was Cas, once again, that</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> kept him from saying a word too many, pressing his hand on his back until his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>took a hint</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and agreed to follow him to the door.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Of course," Cas said in a conciliation voice</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>. “We'll leave you alone.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dean was the last </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>one </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>to surrender to the immobility of Sam’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> figure and to head towards the exit. He had already turned off the light, leaving the room in the dark, when h</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>is brother’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> voice emerged from the shadows.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Dean?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Standing on the threshold, the eldest</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> dared to hope.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Yes?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Don't close the door, please," the twenty-six-year-old whispered without moving, and Dean thought he heard his lungs deflate with the illusions he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had allowed himself to cultivate, when he realized he wouldn't add anything else.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"As you wish," he croaked, pushing the door to allow the glow of the lamps in the corridor to warm the guest room too. “Goodnight, Sammy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He received no response and had to persuade himself that his brother would be able to find some rest</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> in pleasant dreams.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<span><span>His</span></span><span><span> boyfriend, did you say?” Jody considered once they were back in the living room, twisting h</span></span><span><span>er</span></span><span><span> mouth as </span></span><span><span>s</span></span><span><span>he placed h</span></span><span><span>er</span></span><span><span> leather briefcase on the marble bench that separated the kitchen from the dining room. </span></span><span><span>“That sucks</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"His</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> ex," Dean </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>corrected </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>stiffly, his face</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> darkening.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>How i</span></span><span><span>s he</span></span><span><span>?” Cas intervened, crossing his arms in anguish.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Jody wasted no time and reopened her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> briefcase to take out a white envelope, starting to explain even before </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>she returned her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> gaze to her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> two friends.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Physically speaking, the wound on h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> head was the only one that needed some stitches. He let me take pictures of that and </span></span><span><span>of </span></span><span><span>the bruises on h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> abdomen and hips </span></span><span><span>too</span></span><span><span>. No head t</span></span><span><span>rauma</span></span><span><span> or fractures. I won't say he was lucky, but all t</span></span><span><span>hings considered </span></span><span><span>you can rest assured.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel nodded thoughtfully.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Do you think he has other bruises that maybe he didn't want to show you?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Jody shook her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> head: “I doubt that. He</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> was very collaborative.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Because the only alternative was the hospital," Dean pointed out, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Hm</span></span><span><span>” h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> friend </span></span><span><span>pondered</span></span><span><span>. “Anyway, nothing </span></span><span><span>is </span></span><span><span>broken. Bruises </span></span><span><span>will </span></span><span><span>j</span></span><span><span>ust</span></span><span><span> take </span></span><span><span>their</span></span><span><span> time to heal. As for his mental state, Cas, you </span></span><span><span>can </span></span><span><span>understand much more than m</span></span><span><span>e</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The thirty-five year old pursed his lips in a dejected way. There were times when</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> he</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> would have given years of </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> life to have the power to understand a patient with a single snap of his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> fingers.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>It is still </span></span><span><span>too </span></span><span><span>early to f</span></span><span><span>ormulate</span></span><span><span> hypothes</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Jody nodded, then held out the fat</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> white envelope of photographs </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>she had</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> taken with her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Polaroid. Castiel grabbed it and took</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> it to his chest before Dean could even think of getting his hands on</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> it and, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>worst of all,</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> taking</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a look at the pictures. His</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband certainly didn't need any more incentives to suffer from</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> insomnia that night.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"If I were you, I would</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> attach a copy of those</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> when filing</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the restraining order," Jody instructed them seriously. “They will convince the judge to move faster</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> in approving the request. I know my people.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas nodded to tell her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>understood and </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>then </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>disappeared for a moment in his friend's hug. A moment later, Dean spread his arms and returned the favor to the woman, who smiled encouragingly on his shoulder.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"I can’t</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> thank you </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>enough, Jody," he whispered.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Stay close to him” she replied </span></span><span><span>simply</span></span><span><span>, loosening t</span></span><span><span>he</span></span><span><span> embrace and placing a hand on his cheek in an attempt to comfort him. “And keep me updated. S</span></span><span><span>hould you need</span></span><span><span> anything, </span></span><span><span>just</span></span><span><span>give me a </span></span><span><span>ring.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>They both promised they would</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and together they followed</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> her to the exit. When they closed the door, they exchanged a silent look through which they wondered if Jody had understood what neither they nor Sam had mentioned, if she had understood it as Castiel had done, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>without the need for words. Then, without giving </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>themselves </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>an answer, they got ready</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to go to sleep, in silence, like soldiers worn out by the battle.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas's breathing had become deep and regular </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>more than </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>an hour earlier</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> when Dean, unable to imitate him, got out of bed to go check on Sam. As he watched his brother sleep and rediscovered</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> another corner of his childhood – how many times had it been his job</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to put little Sammy to bed, making up stories </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>which had to be </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>imaginative enough to satisfy his fervent mind? -, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>he</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> wondered if that feeling was what a parent was forced to live with. The fear that something could happen to their</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> loved ones, the excruciating need to give everything to save them, that constant pain, like a thorn planted in the chest.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>After a few minutes, Dean returned to the master bedroom and, lying down, made the mattress squeak. Slightly shaken in his slumber, Cas moaned and turned towards him, putting</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> arm </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>around Dean's waist</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to draw </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>him closer, against his warm body.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Sleep, love," the dark haired man murmured, blowing the words in</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his ear. “You need to rest. We'll take care of our</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> problems tomorrow, okay?”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dean shivered, settling himself better against him and feeling his cotton shirt rub against the bare skin of his back. In</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> another situation, that hoarse voice and the thrill </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>that</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> ran through</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> spine </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>when they touched </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>would have been enough to convince him to keep his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband awake and busy for at least another hour. God, how he wished there was nothing but Castiel's desire to cloud</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his mind at that moment.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Okay” he sighed instead, basking in his embrace, well aware that he would not be able to sleep for several hours </span></span><span><span>more</span></span><span><span>.</span></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The next day, the rain beating on the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>bedroom </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>window woke</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Dean </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>up</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a few minutes before the alarm. Finding </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>out </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>that during the night the positions had reversed and now he was the one </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>holding</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his arm around Cas's body in a protective pose, he stayed</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> motionless to contemplate his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> abandoned to sleep </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>face, trying to merge with his serenity.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>As soon as it was seven o'clock and the smartphone resting on Castiel's bedside table played</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the first notes of Ludovico Einaudi's “Divenire”, Dean nipped</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the alarm clock in the bud and offered an even sweeter one, pressing his lips on his partner’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> neck as soon as he began moaning, intolerant of awakening </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>as he was. Dean let him whine for a while, smiling when his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband tried to take refuge putting</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his head under the covers, then loosened his </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>comforting</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> hug</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and placed a cautious kiss on his lips.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Rise and shine, my little Freud," he teased him, deserving the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>resolute</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> pillow he received in </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> face.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>That was a psychoanalyst, </span></span><span><span>you ignorant”</span></span><span><span> Cas muttered, taking back the pillow to place it under his head, turn away and go back to snuggle under the comforter.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Rolling his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> eyes, Dean jumped out of bed and went to open the curtains to take a look at the gloomy day that awaited them outside. The sky was lead-colored and the shop windows</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> suffered from a damp and sickly gray tinge. It was the kind of day that </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>usually </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>made </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Castiel</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> want to curl up on the sofa with a blanket and a cup of hot tea and purr. Dean used to take advantage of the purr, but the vagaries of autumn weather made him shiver to the bone and pray for</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the return of the spring </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>and the</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> sun.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>As he let that little light into the room, Dean put on a falsely</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> perplexed expression to carry on </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>with </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his comedy.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>While you're a...?” he asked, moving closer to h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> husband's warm refuge.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"You know </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>that </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>perfectly well," Cas grumbled</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> from under the covers, annoyed. “Systemic relational psychotherapist.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dean chuckled, pleased, also because Castiel always lent himself too easily to his false declarations of ignorance. Making fun of him was terribly simple and really too funny, especially when he was unable to react because he was sleepy and the world outside the comforter</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> looked</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> cold and frightening to him.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Well, if you can say that stuff, you're also able to get up," Dean said a moment before grabbing the comforter</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and dragging it to the ground, leaving Cas in boxer shorts and a shirt on the bare mattress.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>When a cry of frustration left his husband’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> lips, Dean's laugh increased in volume.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Will you stop </span></span><span><span>making a fuss over this</span></span><span><span>? T</span></span><span><span>he alarm went off” </span></span><span><span>he teased him, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead as he p</span></span><span><span>ut</span></span><span><span> on a pair of sweatpants. “How will you do when we’</span></span><span><span>ll have kids</span></span><span><span> to take to school </span></span><span><span>o</span></span><span><span>n time? I certainly can't do all the </span></span><span><span>hard </span></span><span><span>work, honey.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas withdrew from h</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>is</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> touch with annoyance, groaning</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> unflattering epithets in his husband’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> direction and his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>big mouth, with his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> body rigidly curled up on itself</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> eyes closed </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>on</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> protest.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I hate you deeply," he declared when he finally managed to sit on the edge of the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While looking for a sweatshirt to put on, Dean glanced at him and laughed at his almost closed eyes and messy hair. Then he went to the bathroom, giving him some time to recover from his dreams and forgive him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he returned, Cas had set a tone, had dressed and immediately faced the burning topic that Dean had cleverly avoided so far: they were still in time to bring Sam to ascertain that the sexual violence had occurred, to obtain the evidence of the worst of Luc Benson's crimes. Dean sighed and took a minute before deciding that he would talk to his brother again about the matter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"If he says no, I forbid you to insist," Cas warned him, stopping him before he opened the bedroom door to reach the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean paused to look at him with parted lips and raised eyebrows in an unmistakable manifestation of sarcasm in front of his peremptory tone.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Sure. O</span></span><span><span>r what</span></span><span><span>, y</span></span><span><span>ou’re gonna ground me</span></span><span><span>?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Rather than rolling his eyes like all ordinary mortals, Cas tilted his head to one side and pursed his lips in his own way of giving a warning.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I'm serious, Dean.”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span>Oh, </span></span><span><span>are you</span></span><span><span>?” the youngest man </span></span><span><span>took offense</span></span><span><span>, crossing his arms. "Since you think I'm s</span></span><span><span>o bad at</span></span><span><span> talking w</span></span><span><span>ith</span></span><span><span> my brother, why don't you </span></span><span><span>go ahead and</span></span><span><span> mention it, </span></span><span><span>p</span></span><span><span>rofessor?"</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"That's not what I meant and you know it," Cas replied, raising his eyebrows. But Dean continued to </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>stare at him</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> with the same granite expression, in front of</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> which the eldest</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> had to capitulate with a sigh: “Oh, my goodness, all right. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>All right.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Once the matter was closed, he preceded </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Dean</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> outside the door and in the corridor. When they arrived in the living area, however, they found an unexpected surprise: Sam was at the kitchen counter, sitting on one of the three wooden stools with which Dean had wanted to imitate a pub setting, and when he saw them he simply raised his eyes</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> from the newspaper of the day before and held up</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a hand to</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> greet </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>them.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had taken a shower and changed, Dean realized. The crumpled and ripped clothes of the night before had disappeared and now the boy was wearing a pair of khaki pants and a simple black shirt with long sleeves. Dean recognized some of the clothes that Sam used to leave in their house, in case he stayed with them till late and ended up spending the night there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>In case your boyfriend turns out to be an abusive asshole</em>, he thought</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> with </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>just</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a hint of pragmatism.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam's hair was still damp, fresh, and smelled of</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> conditioner, while</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the bruises on his face shone with the ointment that Jody had left on his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> bedside table the night before. Sam pretended to be comfortable when the Novak-Winchester couple entered the kitchen. Dean took a blink of an eye to understand that it had taken all of Sam's stubbornness to get him out of bed, make him wash, dress</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and set up</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> that show.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>It works</em>, Dean had</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to admit, scrutinizing his younger brother. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Because he </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>really</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> wants</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> to believe it’s real.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Oh," Castiel said, genuinely surprised by both Sam's presence there and his apparent boldness. “You’re up already?”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>I usually get up at five to go for a run. I must have internalized the alarm,” Sam explained with an awkward smile. Then he lifted h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> cup under his nose and used it to indicate the pitcher full of dark liquid placed next to the stove. “I made coffee without waiting for you, I hope you don't mind. </span></span><span><span>There’s plenty left.</span></span><span><span>”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span>W</span></span><span><span>hy should we mind</span></span><span><span>? I’m t</span></span><span><span>his close to hiring</span></span><span><span> you” Dean exclaimed, r</span></span><span><span>ushing</span></span><span><span> to g</span></span><span><span>et</span></span><span><span> two cups from the cupboard. He stopped in front of his brother just in time, remembering that he had responsibilities despite Cas agreeing to </span></span><span><span>deal with</span></span><span><span> the more difficult task. “How do you feel? D</span></span><span><span>id you get any sleep</span></span><span><span>?”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span>I slept” Sam confirmed, t</span></span><span><span>aking</span></span><span><span> the embarrassment of finding other words </span></span><span><span>away from him. “</span></span><span><span>And I'm fine.”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span>Hm” Dean c</span></span><span><span>ommented</span></span><span><span>, studying h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> face for a few seconds before exchanging a glance with h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> husband and clapping h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> hand on h</span></span><span><span>is own</span></span><span><span> thigh, putting on a forced smile. “Well, then I'll make something for breakfast, h</span></span><span><span>ow does that sound</span></span><span><span>?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>As Dean got busy with pots, eggs, bacon and toasts</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> two meters away, Cas got a cup full of coffee to keep his hands busy and sat down next to his brother-in-law, getting ready for everything </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>that could have come at him. Sam's behavior had genuinely astounded</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> him: he</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> would have expected </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>everything, but not such</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a serene exchange of morning greetings at the breakfast table, after what had happened less than twelve hours earlier.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Sa</span></span><span><span>m” he finally called</span></span><span><span>, shifting the boy's attention from the newspaper news to his eyes. “Listen, Dean and I were wondering if </span></span><span><span>there were any chances </span></span><span><span>y</span></span><span><span>ou</span></span><span><span> had changed y</span></span><span><span>our</span></span><span><span> mind about g</span></span><span><span>oing to the</span></span><span><span> hospital” he got out of his mouth then, with the caution he would have used with an injured animal. “We'd still be in time, you know, and...”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"I'm fine," the twenty-six-year-old interrupted him resolutely.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Yes, I know you feel better, but...”</span></p>
<p>“<span>Jody said there is nothing to worry about” Sam blocked him again, without looking away. However, Cas noticed that his hand resting on the newspaper had begun to tremble. “There is no reason to see another doctor.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas hesitated, wondering if it would have been</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> appropriate to be more direct, to give a name to the unspoken by talking about the sexual abuse suffered by Sam and mentioning the canonical seventy-two hours after the violence during which the possibility of finding material evidence of rape was guaranteed. He thought about it seriously, also encouraged by the sideways glances that Dean was throwing at him, but </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>in the end </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>he just</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> gave up. There was something inside him, something closely related to his profession, which told</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> him not to force Sam to recognize something he had never yet openly elaborated</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> with</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> words. Sam had not yet specifically spoken of rape and Cas knew that doing it </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>in his place, forcing him to take that step when it was too early could have been a huge mistake for his mental and physical health.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>All right. Okay” he exhaled then, taking a sip of coffee and leaving Sam free to go back to the news.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>When Castiel caught the hard look with which Dean stabbed him from over the counter while filling three dishes with toasts, scrambled eggs and slices of crispy bacon, he gave him an annoyed one, shrugging</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>like he felt </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>powerless.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><em>I said I would try, not that I would force him</em>, he thought, and somehow he was sure that Dean had heard him, because his eyes darkened even more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cas frowned. He knew that look. It was the same that Dean sported every time his patience ran out to the point of making him tremendously similar to his father, capable of imposing his own decisions with the same transparent, unassailable resolution.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Here, eat </span></span><span><span>up</span></span><span><span>” Dean ordered once he left the kitchen, placing a plate under the nose of each of t</span></span><span><span>hem</span></span><span><span> before taking a seat on Sam's right and starting to devour his breakfast. But the real imposition came when his mouth was already full: “When we are done, we </span></span><span><span>are going</span></span><span><span> to court.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>As soon as Cas's attempt with Sam had failed, the next moves </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>were </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>outlined in the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>eldest Winchester’s </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>mind with the same ease with which a carpet unrolls. Did Sam want to play difficult? That wasn’t a good enough reason for</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Dean to</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> allow him to ruin his life. If his little brother had refused to take over the reins, Dean</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> would have. He would </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>have</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> called</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the library where Sam worked, explained</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> that it was a delicate situation and asked</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> for a day off. Then he would </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>have </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>given a ring to</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Bobby, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>at</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the garage, and taken</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the day off for family matters. Bobby would </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>have </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>understood, he wouldn't </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>have </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>minded, after all four months had passed since Dean</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> last asked for a permit.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dean was still lost among the coils of his plan when a sound of broken shards interrupted the flow of his thoughts, making him jump. Sam's cup, raised by the boy’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> shivering</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> hands, had slipped and ended over the counter, breaking in the sink. Cas stifled a curse and ran to retrieve the remains, but Sam remained motionless. He was staring at his brother.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>W</span></span><span><span>hy</span></span><span><span>?” he asked, visibly shaken. “Why t</span></span><span><span>he</span></span><span><span> court?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Of course</em>, Cas reflected as he retrieved the garbage can and a pair of gloves from under the sink. Who if not Sam had always resisted</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> John Winchester's otherwise undisputed authority? But Dean had entered deeply into his character and this allowed him not to even blink in front of the betrayed look on</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his younger brother’s face.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>To a</span></span><span><span>sk</span></span><span><span> for a restraining order” he merely clarified, swallowing the last pieces of his toast.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam had a</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> hard </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>time swallowing.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Dean, I don't...”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span>You said you’</span></span><span><span>re feeling</span></span><span><span> good, d</span></span><span><span>idn’t you</span></span><span><span>? Then there is no reason to wait” his brother silenced him, keeping a perfectly calm tone. Similarly, as if there was absolutely nothing wrong or that could undermine h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> decision, he stood up and nodded to h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> husband. “I'm going to take a shower, then </span></span><span><span>we’re leaving</span></span><span><span>. By then </span></span><span><span>you’d</span></span><span><span> better f</span></span><span><span>inish</span></span><span><span> w</span></span><span><span>hat’s</span></span><span><span> left on that plate, Cas.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>If he didn't make the same observation to Sam, it was only because he was aware that he had already put enough on him. But that didn't stop Cas from performing an irritated sigh as he said goodbye to the remnants of one of their powder blue</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> cups.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>I'm </span></span><span><span>finishing that</span></span><span><span>, Dean. I'm hungry, I'm g</span></span><span><span>onna eat</span></span><span><span>, I'm just taking it easy. There is no need to g</span></span><span><span>o into</span></span><span><span> drill sergeant </span></span><span><span>mode</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Dean loves going</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> into</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> drill sergeant, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>mode" Sam snorted then, eating</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his eggs.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Both Dean and Castiel were stunned to see him recover so quickly. They would have expected the young man to entrench himself again behind</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a silence similar to that of the night before, given that the topic was the same. What were they</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> missing? Could it be that Sam's obstinacy was allowing him to bounce back</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> so quickly? While Cas was reflecting on a likely trauma concealment strategy, Dean took advantage of that unexpected benevolent atmosphere to relax and ease the tension that had been stiffening</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his nerves from the previous evening.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>What's wrong </span></span><span><span>about that</span></span><span><span>? I got i</span></span><span><span>t from Dad” </span></span><span><span>he said, catching up with h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> husband and reacting to his I-h</span></span><span><span>aven’t-dru</span></span><span><span>nk-my-coffee-</span></span><span><span>yet</span></span><span><span>-I-</span></span><span><span>have-</span></span><span><span>license-to-kill </span></span><span><span>face</span></span><span><span> by g</span></span><span><span>iving</span></span><span><span> him </span></span><span><span>a slap </span></span><span><span>on h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> b</span></span><span><span>utt</span></span><span><span>. “And don't pretend you don't like it.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Cas walked away immediately, annoyed, and for this, at least in Dean's eyes, simply adorable.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Hey, </span></span><span><span>show me </span></span><span><span>some respect. How is it that only you have the right to be left alone before breakfast? No, hey, give it back to me” the dark </span></span><span><span>haired man</span></span><span><span> protested, leaning towards Dean when he p</span></span><span><span>retended</span></span><span><span> to steal his cup of coffee. Cas b</span></span><span><span>rought it to his</span></span><span><span> chest and gave h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> husband a fiery look. “Wasn't there a shower waiting for you? G</span></span><span><span>et lost</span></span><span><span>, b</span></span><span><span>oy</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dean chuckled at his way of pointing out their five-year age gap, pretending to flee to the corridor so as not to get caught.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Yes, sir!”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Dean stopped in the middle of the corridor to open the closet around the corner, where they kept the linen, and get a clean bathrobe. He was still kneeling before a pile of towels, barely hidden, when he heard Sam's voice stand out clearly in the morning silence.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>O</span></span><span><span>ne might say</span></span><span><span> that he is training you for fatherhood.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Dean imagined that Cas had brought him another cup of coffee before going back to sitting and nibbling a slice of toast with evident relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Yes," Castiel sputtered in response, surely pondering revenge against his husband. “You might</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> say that.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>As he closed the bathroom door behind him and let</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the shower jet </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>on, Dean frowned.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>His brother spoke, interacted, intervened even if not called. At an external glance anyone would have said that he was fine, that he was similar to the Sam </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>he had always been, grumpy but fairly serene and healthy. So why did Dean still feel that twinge digging </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>in </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his chest? He couldn’t be</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> imagining the shadow in his little brother's eyes, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>that was</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> certain. But what was that shadow? Just one of the bruises left by Luc Benson the previous night or what made Sam's behavior so difficult to interpret?</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. A firm hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Less than an hour later, they were leaving the house. As promised, Cas had eaten all</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his breakfast – as well as half of Sam's – and washed the dishes. Dean had called Bobby's garage, the library where Sam worked and Cas's </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>office</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to get </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>a </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>free day </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>for everyone. In the meantime, Sam had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>shut his mouth </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>like a child in time-out </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>once again.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The twenty-six-year-old did not resist when his brother motioned for him to get in the car, but did not say a single word during the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>whole ride. Having dropped on the back seat that didn’t fit him anymore, with his hands joined </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>on his lap, he kept his eyes fixed on the city panorama that flowed outside</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the window, but without focusing his gaze on anything in particular. Quickly peering into the rearview mirror – Cas had finally returned</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the keys of</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the Impala –, Dean guessed Sam</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> was observing images that </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>only </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>existed in his mind.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The blonde tried to distract everyone by discussing with his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>about </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the other errands to run</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> while they were near the city center</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> – the weekly shopping, a trip to the pharmacy to get supplies for</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the medicine cabinet, some Christmas gifts –, but this did not prevent him from exchanging upset</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> glances with Cas.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>When he finally pulled over to the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>closest </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>sidewalk </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>to </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the courthouse entrance, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Dean</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> didn't know whether to be relieved or to scream in frustration. His</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> brother looked like a mannequin. Motionless and silent, he</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> merged beautifully with the setting, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>which was</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> clouded by the great</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> flood that was raging around them. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>And Dean could not bear the idea of not being able to do anything to change that situation.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Well," he announced with </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>fake bravado, without turning off</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the engine but keeping his foot on the brake. “I'll try</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to find a parking spot, you </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>can </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>wait for me in the hall.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas had just nodded when Sam's voice emerged from behind their heads, as unsure as a chirp.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Dean...”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span>C</span></span><span><span>ould you</span></span><span><span> do me a favor </span></span><span><span>and leave the umbrella here? I’ll need that.</span></span><span><span> Y</span></span><span><span>ou could take a run to the entrance.”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span>Dean.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>This time the eldest</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> of the Winchesters could not pretend </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>he hadn’t heard him.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>What?” he asked without looking at him, w</span></span><span><span>hile</span></span><span><span> he had Cas's m</span></span><span><span>oney belt</span></span><span><span> delivered </span></span><span><span>in his lap </span></span><span><span>so that i</span></span><span><span>t</span></span><span><span> wouldn't get w</span></span><span><span>et</span></span><span><span>.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam took a deep breath, glancing anxiously at the court across the street.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I don't think this is a good idea.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Those eight</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> words were enough for Dean to take the time to turn to him.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>What are you saying?” he asked with a granite expression.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The youngest</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> swallowed. Cas was right when he noticed</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> that Dean had a natural talent for appearing as stubborn as John Winchester and just as adamant, but Sam was twenty-six years old and the period of his life during which he had had to bow his head in front of</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the rules of his family was now only a distant memory. Sam tried to keep that premise in mind, to convince himself of it while looking into his older brother's eyes and repeating the last thing the thirty-year-old wanted to hear.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I'm saying I don't want to do this.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He said it in one breath, without having any idea what the reaction of the two partners</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> would have been. Of course they loved him, but they had already done enough to clarify their opinion</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> about</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the latest events. They wanted that damned restraining order, they demanded it. But as much as Sam was sure his brother was one step away from ranting against him, he hadn't been able to restrain himself. He couldn't curl up on himself, keep crying and expect the people around him to handle the matter. Not when they refused to see his reasons. No, he couldn't afford to be weak, not at that juncture.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>But he hadn't expected the silence that fell inside</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the Impala. It was different from what had frozen his bones the night before, when he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>got into Luc's SUV and had been</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> ordered to keep his mouth shut until they</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> got home, until he would have received</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> what he owed for being selfish and</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> violating the rules.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>This is not cool</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> at all, Sammy</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>, Luc's voice reiterated in his head.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>But it was still terrible. Dean kept staring</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> at him for all those damned seconds, breathing faster than just a moment before, and Cas had tensed up</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> on his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> seat.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam closed his eyes, presaging the worst. But then Dean spoke again and surprisingly he didn’t start</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> yelling.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Listen, Sam," he exhaled after what appeared to be eons, raising two fingers to rub his eyes before returning to his younger brother's grey-green irises.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>His</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> severity was not entirely gone, but now it was mitigated by every drop of respect and concern that a hot-blooded</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> soul like Dean's could offer.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>I know I can't e</span></span><span><span>xpect</span></span><span><span> to understand what's on your mind right now. I know, okay? I don't want to tell you what I'd do i</span></span><span><span>f I were in your shoes</span></span><span><span>, because I know I can't understand what you are g</span></span><span><span>oing through right now</span></span><span><span>. But if there is something unequivocal in this story...” he stopped, because he was about to growl. He had to inhale deeply and bite his lip before continuing, with just a bit more anger </span></span><span><span>showing </span></span><span><span>in his voice: “If there is something certain in this story, it is that Lucifer Benson was not human towards you. Do you really want to a</span></span><span><span>rgue with this</span></span><span><span>?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam held </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>onto </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>more oxygen</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> than he needed, hesitating: “I...”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>But his brother counterattacked </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>immediately. Evidently terrified at the idea of what Sam could have said to defend Luc, he toughened</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his tone without thinking twice.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Look, I don't want to hear </span></span><span><span>any of your </span></span><span><span>bullshit. I don't want to hear you say you still love him, least of all I want to hear you say that in some strange way you think he cares about you. </span></span><span><span>‘Cause it’s a huge amount of</span></span><span><span> crap. I can't convince you of this, I know, I'm not a psychologist and I can't do these things. But I'm your b</span></span><span><span>ig</span></span><span><span> brother and in this case I'm not willing to give up even for all t</span></span><span><span>hose</span></span><span><span> p</span></span><span><span>uppy</span></span><span><span> looks y</span></span><span><span>ou can give me</span></span><span><span>. That man hurt and humiliated you and I can't pretend </span></span><span><span>nothing happened</span></span><span><span>. You can't ask me to pretend nothing </span></span><span><span>happened</span></span><span><span>, Sam, </span></span><span><span>not this time”</span></span><span><span> he said, and for a moment he seemed to be pleading. </span></span><span><span>But just a</span></span><span><span> blink l</span></span><span><span>ater</span></span><span><span>he </span></span><span><span>was o</span></span><span><span>nce again</span></span><span><span> the son that Winchester senior would h</span></span><span><span>ave seen fit</span></span><span><span> in the </span></span><span><span>Marine Corp </span></span><span><span>ranks. “So now the three of us </span></span><span><span>will go</span></span><span><span> into that court </span></span><span><span>to</span></span><span><span> f</span></span><span><span>ill</span></span><span><span> i</span></span><span><span>n</span></span><span><span>all</span></span><span><span> the paperwork and you will sign the request for a restraining order. There is nothing </span></span><span><span>else</span></span><span><span> to discuss, so g</span></span><span><span>et</span></span><span><span>your ass </span></span><span><span>moving</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>As soon as the thirty-year-old was done</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> talking, a much heavier silence than the one that preceded his speech fell on everyone's shoulders. When he saw Sam's eyes fill with tears, Dean thought he had made the last mistake of his life. His brother would repudiate him and he would end up committing suicide in </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the most </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>painful way</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He was speechless when, under his amazed gaze, Sam opened the door and walked in the rain, determined but without running, to the courthouse</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> door. There, under some kind of plastic</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> shelter, he stopped and waited.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dean kept watching</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> him from the Impala for a few more seconds, trying to calm his heartbeat and close his mouth. After a few moments </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>he ran a hand over his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> face, expelled all the air in his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> lungs and finally looked at his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband, resigned to receiving his verdict like a slap in the face.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Come on, stop holding back. Say i</span></span><span><span>t</span></span><span><span>. I've been too hard, haven't I? I w</span></span><span><span>as</span></span><span><span> an asshole. Don't spare me.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Cas smiled and raised his eyebrows eloquently before sighing.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>I </span></span><span><span>shall</span></span><span><span> say you were a little less cautious than I would have been. But hey,” he encouraged him, putting a hand on his arm to get his full attention, “maybe that was what Sam needed. This thing has to be done, one way or another. We have to make sure it </span></span><span><span>gets</span></span><span><span> done. And look: he's waiting for us in front of the court. It worked. That's all that matters for now. I doubt I would have succeeded </span></span><span><span>in making this happen</span></span><span><span>” he nodded, leading his partner to do the same. “After all, docility is not really a distinctive gene </span></span><span><span>in</span></span><span><span> the Winchester </span></span><span><span>family</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>If until then Dean had listened to his husband with his head down, nodding conscientiously, that last comment triggered him, making him raise an eyebrow to underline his indignation.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>What d</span></span><span><span>o you mean by that</span></span><span><span>?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas grinned, amused by his offended tone, buttoning up his coat</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> before putting his hand on the door handle.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>I mean that sometimes you need a f</span></span><span><span>irm</span></span><span><span> hand </span></span><span><span>too</span></span><span><span>. I know something about it” he threw t</span></span><span><span>hat statement</span></span><span><span> there with the aware tone of someone who knows a lot, and started to go out in the rain.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He would have succeeded if Dean hadn't held him by the wrist </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>and kept him on the passenger seat. When Cas turned back to him with an</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> inquisitive face, he found a sharp grin waiting for him.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Well, doctor,” Dean said in an allusive and only partially joking tone, caressing his hand in the way t</span></span><span><span>hat</span></span><span><span> had been able to s</span></span><span><span>pin</span></span><span><span> hi</span></span><span><span>s</span></span><span><span> husband's imagination r</span></span><span><span>ound and round</span></span><span><span> since the</span></span><span><span>ir</span></span><span><span> first date, “feel free to spank me whenever y</span></span><span><span>ou deem</span></span><span><span> it necessary.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas didn't even have time to feel </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the heat reach </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his ears that Dean was already laughing at him without the slightest</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>hint of </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>decency.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Y</span></span><span><span>ou idiot”</span></span><span><span> Cas retorted between his teeth, s</span></span><span><span>lapping </span></span><span><span>his thigh while the other </span></span><span><span>man</span></span><span><span> buried his laughter in the crook of his elbow, with his arm resting on the steering wheel. “You </span></span><span><span>would totally</span></span><span><span> deserve it”.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Seeing him getting back</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to the conversation, Dean </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>recovered</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his acting</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> skills</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and gave him a wink </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>which was </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>full of meaning.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Oh, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>you’re damn right</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>I would," he said in the lowest tone he could, smiling.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>This did nothing but accentuate the blushing</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> on Castiel's cheeks. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>The man hurried to</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> open the car door wide and pulled himself</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> out as if the Impala was on fire.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"I swear we will continue</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> this conversation," he muttered, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>so </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>irritated that he didn't want to let</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his husband</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>have the last word.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"I </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>would</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> like that," Dean </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>commented, ready and irreverent, leaning towards the passenger seat to be able to look him in the eye and embarrass him </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>a bit more. “I'm free on </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>lunchtime on</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Tuesday, sweetheart. My place or yours? Choose freely, but know that I have </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>some </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>toys </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>I think you’d appreciate.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas rolled his eyes with all his might – yes, sometimes </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Dean's playful insistence could </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>even </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>make him rely on</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a gesture </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>which was </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>so far from</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his style – and leaned over to kiss him avidly.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You’re terrible," he whispered a millimeter away from his lips, shaking his head with false exasperation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>His</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband smiled broadly, wearing his most</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> innocent face</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> just as the furious scream of a </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>car </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>horn made Cas jump.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>And you’</span></span><span><span>re pretty</span></span><span><span> adorable when you blush, but w</span></span><span><span>e’re in the way</span></span><span><span>. Move that f</span></span><span><span>abulous</span></span><span><span> ass, h</span></span><span><span>on</span></span><span><span>, before I </span></span><span><span>g</span></span><span><span>et there and </span></span><span><span>t</span></span><span><span>ake a bite</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>At that point, Cas had no choice but to run to catch up with his brother-in-law and Dean, grinning, could head</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> towards</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the first available parking lot knowing</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> that, if only his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband had not been raised under the banner of an ardent Catholic doctrine, that would have been one of the times when he would have </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>cursed and</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>called him the worst </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>of </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>names</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> in the name of the Lord.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Evidently Dean's speech had had some kind of effect on Sam.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><em>At least enough to keep him from running away</em>, Castiel thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>From the moment he stepped into the courthouse to the moment he was allowed out, Sam behaved like a child taken to </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>a clinic</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> for a booster shot. An obedient child, however frightened and contrary to what was happening to him. He followed Dean with his head down, side</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> by </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>side with</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Cas, and although his agitation was clear, he did not resist when his brother put</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the completed</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> papers under his nose, accompanied by a discreet envelope containing a copy of the photos Jody </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had taken, and a pen in </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>hand.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Seeing him hesitate, Cas was glad that all he was asked for was a signature. It was just like taking</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a brat to get a shot: a lot of apprehension before the deed, but then it was </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>just </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>a moment. The time of a snap of fingers and </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>then Sam’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> long and elegant signature was shining</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> at the bottom of the page.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas sighed with relief and took Sam out of there as quickly as possible before he changed his mind</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> about it or collapsed. The task of listening to the clerk's information – the timing, responsibilities and consequences of the restraining order – was left to Dean, who joined them </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>in the</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> car after a few minutes.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>It was done. Once back in the Impala, Cas relaxed </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>leaning his back </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>against his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> seat. He knew that Sam was sitting behind him with a mortified expression, but he really needed to enjoy that little victory. When the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>opposite</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> door opened, Cas smiled at his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband, thinking that now they could have dedicated themselves to something else and maybe they would have even managed to take</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Sam’s mind off the restraining order.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas began to doubt that plan when, once </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>they were</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> back in the morning traffic, Dean did not head for the supermarket. Nor towards the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>city </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>center, where they would find a pharmacy and Christmas presents to check off their</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> list. No. Dean parked in front of the nearest police station and motioned</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> both his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband and brother </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>to follow him </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>without saying a word.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Why are we here?” Sam asked as soon as they had escaped the rain for the third time.</span></p>
<p>“<span><span>To f</span></span><span><span>inish the job”</span></span><span><span> Dean replied, wiping the soles of his shoes on the entrance mat before rushing to the reception desk and quickly attracting the attention of the police officer on duty behind the glass. “</span></span><span><span>Good morning</span></span><span><span>, we n</span></span><span><span>eed</span></span><span><span> to report an a</span></span><span><span>ssault</span></span><span><span>. More than one, a</span></span><span><span>ctually.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The policeman, a bald man in his forties, quit </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>whatever he was doing with </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his computer to eye</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Dean from head to toe.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Are you the victim of the a</span></span><span><span>ssault</span></span><span><span>?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"No, that’s him," the thirty-year-old nodded</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> towards</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Sam, who in the meantime had approached with caution.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam opened his mouth to protest, but the policeman went on</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> without giving him </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>time.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>First of all, I will need you to fill in these forms with y</span></span><span><span>our</span></span><span><span> p</span></span><span><span>ersonal data.”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span>No, wait a minute” Sam resisted, glancing at his older brother with a lost look on his face before shaking his head in the guard’s direction. “There is no need, officer.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The man beyond the glass raised an eyebrow and made</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a puzzled face</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>, while Dean glanced at his brother </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>like he wanted to murder him.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Sir, if you want to file a complaint, I need these documents written and signed.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"My brother got it wrong," Sam explained with a nervous smile, then returned his raged gaze to Dean and clarified: "I don't want to file a complaint."</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>What can I do for you, </span></span><span><span>then</span></span><span><span>?” the policeman said </span></span><span><span>with a rather piqued tone of voice</span></span><span><span>, w</span></span><span><span>hile his eyes wandered</span></span><span><span> from a boy t</span></span><span><span>o the other.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Noticing that a small queue had formed behind them – there was a very annoyed elderly lady, a man with a curious </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>little </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>boy and a couple arguing in</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a low voice –, Cas was about to lead</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the two Winchesters away so that the now inevitable debate</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> could take</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> place in a more suitable place. Unfortunately or fortunately, his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband preceded him.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>I'm sorry, my brother is a little confused. Could you give us a minute? Thank </span></span><span><span>you</span></span><span><span>, m</span></span><span><span>uch</span></span><span><span> obliged” he said to the agent, o</span></span><span><span>ffering</span></span><span><span> him the most false of smiles before placing a hand on Sam's arm and taking him away from the p</span></span><span><span>eople</span></span><span><span>, i</span></span><span><span>n</span></span><span><span> a wide and n</span></span><span><span>ot so crowded</span></span><span><span> corridor.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas followed them at a safe distance, trying, at least at first, to be interested in something else. But as soon as he realized how close Dean was to his patience</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> limit, he decided to stay close to him in order to interrupt</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a possible</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> explosion. However, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband was too distracted from his anger to care for anyone other than his brother.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>W</span></span><span><span>ould</span></span><span><span> you mind explaining </span></span><span><span><em>th</em></span></span><span><span><em>at</em></span></span><span><span>to me?” he growled, letting go of Sam only to clench his fists at his sides.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> would have expected </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>anything</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>, but</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>not that </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his brother could react so</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> promptly.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Would</span></span><span><span><em>you</em></span></span><span><span> mind explaining it to </span></span><span><span><span>me</span></span></span><span><span>? I c</span></span><span><span>an’t</span></span><span><span> believe it, you're... you're making </span></span><span><span>so much noise</span></span><span><span>, Dean, and a</span></span><span><span>bout nothing</span></span><span><span> at all. Can't you see you're b</span></span><span><span>eing</span></span><span><span> ridiculous?” </span></span><span><span>he</span></span><span><span> provoked him, raising his arms to indicate the police station and perhaps their </span></span><span><span>whole </span></span><span><span>situation. “You t</span></span><span><span>ook</span></span><span><span> me here to make me </span></span><span><span>file </span></span><span><span>a complaint I have no intention of c</span></span><span><span>arrying out</span></span><span><span>, but you already knew. And you t</span></span><span><span>alk</span></span><span><span> as if my boyfriend killed someone” he added, bending the corners of his mouth in an incredulous and pungent smile.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas watched him carefully, seriously, and it was with dismay that he realized the boy believed all that</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>. He was convinced of what he was saying. Dean, much less placid than his companion, clenched his hands into fists until his bones creaked.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"The piece of shit</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> you </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>still </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>call your boyfriend beat</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> you up and it wasn't the first time," he said through his teeth, dangerously approaching his brother.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas doubted it was only to make sure the other people didn't hear their conversation. Sam reacted by stiffening his jaw. He took a moment, lowered his gaze to the ground and bit his lips, but they were not signs that anticipated his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> surrender. Very soon his eyes, shining with a new vital energy</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>, got back</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to shooting</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> darts in his older brother’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> direction.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>I could try to explain how it works between me and Luc </span></span><span><span>to you</span></span><span><span>,” he hissed softly, as if he wanted to carve those words o</span></span><span><span>n</span></span><span><span> Dean's mind, “but it would be a waste of time.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Dean snorted without a drop of fun.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Oh, is that so?”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span>Yes, it is. You wouldn't understand. Why should you try, after all? It's not your version of the story, so it's definitely wrong. This is how it works for you, i</span></span><span><span>sn’t</span></span><span><span> it? It has always worked like this, with you a</span></span><span><span>nd</span></span><span><span>D</span></span><span><span>ad.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Here we go</em>, Castiel thought. And Dean snapped as expected.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Okay, you know what? I've had enough of this attitude of yours. I tried to s</span></span><span><span>upport</span></span><span><span> Cas a</span></span><span><span>nd </span></span><span><span>his plan of letting you p</span></span><span><span>rocess</span></span><span><span> as you </span></span><span><span>please</span></span><span><span>, </span></span><span><span>of giving</span></span><span><span> you time to recognize what happened and to choose when, how and why to tell us about it, really, I tried. But honestly?</span></span><span><span> At this point,</span></span><span><span> I’</span></span><span><span>m fucking sick of it</span></span><span><span>. Fuck psychology, I won't let you destroy yourself with your own hands” he swore, and the fact that he kept his voice f</span></span><span><span>orcefully</span></span><span><span> low only made him </span></span><span><span>look </span></span><span><span>more frightening.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel made one attempt.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Dean.”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span>No, that's enough. T</span></span><span><span>hat’s fucking enough”</span></span><span><span> Dean cut him off, raising a hand in his direction before returning to his brother in an almost pleading tone. A little while longer and the tears he was holding back would h</span></span><span><span>ave been</span></span><span><span> noticed. “Sam, that man raped you. How can you </span></span><span><span>still</span></span><span><span> defend h</span></span><span><span>im</span></span><span><span>? How can you l</span></span><span><span>ash out at</span></span><span><span> me, when I'm doing everything </span></span><span><span>I can </span></span><span><span>to stop </span></span><span><span>him from </span></span><span><span>hurting you a</span></span><span><span>gain</span></span><span><span>? For God's sake, tell e</span></span><span><span>verything</span></span><span><span> and sign that fucking c</span></span><span><span>omplaint</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Face </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>to face </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>with the stark truth, Sam sucked all the oxygen he could and went back to staring at the floor, his shoulders and arms stiffer than ever. He had a hard time swallowing, then a breath </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>escaped</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his lips.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>W</span></span><span><span>hat</span></span><span><span>?” Dean </span></span><span><span>asked</span></span><span><span>, n</span></span><span><span>ot wanting</span></span><span><span> to miss a single word.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam jerked his head up. His eyes were two cold, impassive mirrors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Luc didn't rape me," he repeated with more determination than necessary.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas cursed that whole situation. He didn't want to do anything but intervene, but Dean kept him at a distance and insisted</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to continue the game alone.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"That's not what you told me on the phone," he vibrated in</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> astonishment, believing he could still show his brother the wall he kept</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> slamming against. “That's not what we saw when </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>we...”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"You didn’t see</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> anything," Sam burst out, definitively losing all his </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>residual </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>calm. “Yes, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Luc hit me, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>he did, okay? I admit it, are you happy now? That’s how it works between us. If I screw up, he takes measures. I agree.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>If Dean had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> an immediate facial paresis, he would have appeared less upset. He could hardly get the words out of his mouth, which according to Cas would have been an improvement, given how he was messing</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> everything up.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>What... what?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"I want him</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to do it," Sam repeated defiantly.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Sure. O</span></span><span><span>f course</span></span><span><span>! </span></span><span><span>Jesus </span></span><span><span>Christ” Dean grumble</span></span><span><span>d</span></span><span><span>, putting his hands in his hair. When he returned to his younger brother's e</span></span><span><span>yes</span></span><span><span>, </span></span><span><span>he had </span></span><span><span>a quivering smile linger</span></span><span><span>ing</span></span><span><span> on his lips. “T</span></span><span><span>hat’s</span></span><span><span> why you </span></span><span><span>were crying when you </span></span><span><span>c</span></span><span><span>alled</span></span><span><span> me</span></span><span><span>, r</span></span><span><span>ight</span></span><span><span>? Because everything was going perfectly </span></span><span><span>fine</span></span><span><span>. Because you were having an ideal n</span></span><span><span>ight</span></span><span><span>, you and your... disciplinary relationship or whatever the hell you want to call it!”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span>Listen,” Sam continued, u</span></span><span><span>sing</span></span><span><span> the </span></span><span><span>apparently </span></span><span><span>reasonable attitude that </span></span><span><span>he </span></span><span><span>seemed to have absorbed from the law manuals </span></span><span><span>he had </span></span><span><span>learned by heart at university. “Luc t</span></span><span><span>ook it a little too far</span></span><span><span> last night, I’</span></span><span><span>ll</span></span><span><span> grant you </span></span><span><span>that</span></span><span><span>. He probably drank a little too much and let go, but he only did it because he was worried about me.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Cas remained forcibly expressionless, while Dean's desperation reached the upper level.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>I cannot believe t</span></span><span><span>his</span></span><span><span>…”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span>I'm not saying it's all in the past, okay? I s</span></span><span><span>igned the request for</span></span><span><span> that damned restrictive o</span></span><span><span>rder</span></span><span><span>, didn't I? But I'm sure h</span></span><span><span>e’ll make it up to me</span></span><span><span>. The judge's warning will frighten him a bit, will make him think. He'll apologize, we'll make u</span></span><span><span>p</span></span><span><span> and...”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span>Do</span></span><span><span>n’t</span></span><span><span> you realize,” his brother i</span></span><span><span>nterrupted</span></span><span><span> him, studying him with wide eyes while trying to use his own distorted logic to prove that h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> s</span></span><span><span>tory didn’t add up</span></span><span><span> anyway, “that you are talking about i</span></span><span><span>t</span></span><span><span> as if he had g</span></span><span><span>iven you a slap on your wrist</span></span><span><span> and t</span></span><span><span>old</span></span><span><span>you “</span></span><span><span>n</span></span><span><span>ot cool</span></span><span><span>"? Do</span></span><span><span>n’t</span></span><span><span> you realize that you are talking about the person who almost l</span></span><span><span>anded</span></span><span><span> you i</span></span><span><span>n</span></span><span><span> hospital and who </span></span><span><span>forced himself on you</span></span><span><span> in the worst way possible? Admit it, Sam. Say i</span></span><span><span>t</span></span><span><span>. It was rape. Say i</span></span><span><span>t</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>With an incredibly similar stunned expression, Sam looked up towards</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the ceiling and let go a frustrated</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> cry that attracted several weird looks from strangers</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>There was no rape!”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>But Dean didn't give up. Had it been his choice, he would have spent his life consuming himself on that back-and-forth.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Then explain to me why the fuck you were so destroyed when we found you! And why the fuck did you call me at night, in tears! Your clothes </span></span><span><span>were torn apart</span></span><span><span>, Sammy! You </span></span><span><span>still </span></span><span><span>had </span></span><span><span>the fear of </span></span><span><span>d</span></span><span><span>ying</span></span><span><span> in your eyes, I saw it, so now explain to me w</span></span><span><span>here you’re </span></span><span><span>find</span></span><span><span>ing</span></span><span><span> e</span></span><span><span>nough</span></span><span><span> courage to defend that beast!” </span></span><span><span>he</span></span><span><span> railed, n</span></span><span><span>ow that every limit was crossed.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas buried his face in his hands. It was so strange that a policeman hadn't already thrown</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> them </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>out</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> or taken them somewhere for interrogation, but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that Dean didn't realize how badly</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> he</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> had played </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>his cards. The worst part was Sam's expression, the one with which he surrendered and convinced himself that it was useless to waste time trying to get somewhere with his older brother. The worst part were</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the tears that began to roll</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> down his cheeks, and </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>then</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his words. Oh, his words.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Luc was right," he whispered hoarsely. “</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>I shouldn’t have called you. It was a dumb idea.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He managed to silence Dean, but did not enjoy the moment. An</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> instant </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>later, he was already on the street.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Sugar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Castiel was the first to recover and took action quickly and efficiently, as he had become accustomed to do</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in emergency situations. How many times, within the walls of his office, had he found himself having to manage the personal crises of his patients? In those moments, strong nerves and a clear mind had proven to be fundamental skills.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Now, Cas knew he had made a rookie</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> mistake, leaving Dean in charge of the conversation </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>that had just gone sideways. Finding himself in front of two brothers who knew each other better than anyone else in the world, he had acted lightly and believed that this was, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>in fact,</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the best solution. Now it was too late </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>for regrets. No, it was time </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>for him</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to roll up his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> sleeves and, first of all, make sure that his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband couldn't create</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> any more</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> trouble.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>So, before Dean could </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>even </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>think about</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> taking a step towards the door to run after Sam, Castiel put a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"I'll go," he stated</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in a serious voice.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Although Dean was perfectly capable of recognizing those situations when</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> it was better not to take the risk of contradicting his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband, that day he was too shaken to react normally to the usual incentives. As soon as he sensed that the grip of Castiel’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> fingers was there</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to restrain him, he frowned.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>What? Why?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Cas ignored his betrayed tone and looked around for a place where to put him. Then, without answering his questions, he led Dean</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to the long wooden bench at the entrance and finally let go of his arm.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>You sit here and wait for me. Do not move.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>In no time, Dean's bewildered gaze became outraged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Don't treat me like a child," he protested sharply, and for Castiel it was the last straw.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Then stop a</span></span></span><span><span><span>cting</span></span></span><span><span><span> like a five-</span></span></span><span><span><span>year-old</span></span></span><span><span><span>!” he exclaimed, widening his eyes and beginning to forget whoever could </span></span></span><span><span><span>have </span></span></span><span><span><span>hear</span></span></span><span><span><span>d them</span></span></span><span><span><span> or stare</span></span></span><span><span><span>d</span></span></span><span><span><span>. “Your brother is not ready for this k</span></span></span><span><span><span>ind</span></span></span><span><span><span> of confrontation, c</span></span></span><span><span><span>an’t you see it once and for all</span></span></span><span><span><span>? Do you want h</span></span></span><span><span><span>im</span></span></span><span><span><span> to g</span></span></span><span><span><span>o back</span></span></span><span><span><span> t</span></span></span><span><span><span>o</span></span></span><span><span><span> the so-called love of his life? Is that what you want, Dean?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>His</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband looked at him as if Castiel</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> had just forbidden him to have lunch with a double hamburger and </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>then </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>go on </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>drowning</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> himself in</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> apple pie.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Of course not," he mumbled, lowering his gaze, but Cas didn’t feel moved to pity.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Well, then f</span></span></span><span><span><span>ix that behavior</span></span></span><span><span><span>. I can't save S</span></span></span><span><span><span>am</span></span></span><span><span><span> alone, not if you keep w</span></span></span><span><span><span>orking against</span></span></span><span><span><span> me.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Having said that, he turned his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> back on Dean</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and walked out</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the door. Despite being aware of Dean's impetuous nature and his good intentions, Castiel</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> could not avoid losing his patience with</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him when he crossed the line</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in such a blatant way. Dean</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was the person Sam</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was most fond </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>of, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had practically raised him side by side with</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> their mother and </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>having </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a father that everyone</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> would have called at least</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> hard-to-please, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>how could he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>possibly</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> not know when</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to stop before the dam overflowed </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>yet?</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>As he ran down the steps outside</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the police station and exposed himself to the pounding rain, Castiel tried to calm his nervousness, remembering</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Dean's reasons. His</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband was worried to death about his younger brother. He hated that one</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> man, an apparently cruel man, had managed to harm him, but he hated even more the thought that Sam kept his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> faith </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>in</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>to that person after all the injuries, physical and mental </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>ones both, that had been inflicted on him. And Dean was shaking, trembling at the thought that Sam could be already</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> back on that </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>death </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>path.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Sam!” Castiel called in the rain, spotting his brother-in-law's tall figure twenty meters ahead, on the sidewalk. “Sam, wait!”</span></p>
<p>“<span>Leave me alone, Cas!”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Castiel quickened his pace until he caught up with</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him, aware </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>as he was</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> that if Sam had really wanted to outrun him, he would have succeeded without great efforts.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Sam," he repeated, touching</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his shoulder to make him turn and face him. The boy did not resist, not even slightly,</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and, if only the weather had not been so ungrateful, Cas could have sworn he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>recognized tears escaping from his eyelashes. His eyes were those of tears, but the rain provided him with excellent coverage. “I left Dean in the police station to run after you. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He’s devastated. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Could</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> we... could</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> we sit down </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>somewhere </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>and get something to drink? Please. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>I’d just like to talk with you, that’s all.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam followed his nod and considered the coffee shop</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> on the corner </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>of the street. The</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> lights </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>were </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>on and the writing on the window promised a comfortable and dry refuge that </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>would have tempted </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>even a preacher of poverty on such a wet and cold</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> day. Finally the boy</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> gave a warning look to his brother-in-law.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>If you’</span></span></span><span><span><span>ll</span></span></span><span><span><span> start talking </span></span></span><span><span><span>nonsense </span></span></span><span><span><span>about rape too, s</span></span></span><span><span><span>o help me</span></span></span><span><span><span>...”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"It's not my intention," Castiel assured him, putting a hand on his </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>own</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> chest.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Then he nodded reverently in the direction of the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>coffee sgop</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and, while Sam preceded</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him inside the room, he breathed the first of many sighs of relief.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The inside</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> of the bar</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> kept the</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> promises </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>it </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>inspired from outside: the place was tidy and warm enough to convince all customers</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to take off their soaked coats and the menu written with colored chalks on the huge blackboard above the counter announced a variety of</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> hot drinks. Sam and Castiel </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>took off their jackets and </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>stayed</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in shirt sleeves, sat at</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> one of the free tables against the window and ordered a strawberry-flavored green tea and a cup of American black coffee respectively.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Once the smiling waitress had left, Cas looked around and thanked </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Heaven for the presence of </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a good number of customers. The general chatter</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> would have granted</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> more privacy to their conversation and perhaps even pushed Sam to talk</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and be</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> reasonable.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Cas did not rush him. He let Sam take his time to recover from the echo of the words </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>his brother had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>shouted shortly before and to calm down. The </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>boy</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> kept</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> watching the raindrops hitting</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the window</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> on his right for </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>more than </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>three minutes, in silence, before taking a deep breath and being able to lose some of the stiffness </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>he had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>accumulated in his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> neck and shoulders.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Cas kept an eye on</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him all the time, but without being noticed, without staring at him insistently. It was a dowry that had taken years to refine, to study his patients without making him weigh them. When the young waitress returned to them to place their orders on the table, she returned </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Castiel’s smile </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>before placing a saucer next to Sam's cup of tea. It contained a handful of still hot marbled cookies and got</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the attention of the youngest </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>boy</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>too, because none of them had asked for</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> them.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>On some days a </span></span></span><span><span><span>person</span></span></span><span><span><span> need</span></span></span><span><span><span>s</span></span></span><span><span><span> a little more sugar than usual, </span></span></span><span><span><span>you know</span></span></span><span><span><span>?” the girl </span></span></span><span><span><span>said</span></span></span><span><span><span>, answering Sam's questioning </span></span></span><span><span><span>look</span></span></span><span><span><span> with a smile. “Don't worry, it’</span></span></span><span><span><span>s on</span></span></span><span><span><span> the house.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>And </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>she turned, heading for the next table, without waiting for an answer. Cas saw Sam turn pale as soon as he realized that that must have been all about the bruise </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>he was sporting </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>under his left eye, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>but he said nothing. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He hoped</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> that his brother-in-law would accept the kind gesture</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> without asking too many questions about how much the sweet waitress had deduced. Fortunately, after a few seconds the boy</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> took a biscuit, dipped it in his tea and took a bite, volatilizing the tension. Then he handed the saucer to Cas, who willingly took one of the treats.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Please </span></span></span><span><span><span>excuse</span></span></span><span><span><span> Dean's impetuosity” C</span></span></span><span><span><span>astiel</span></span></span><span><span><span> began then, perceiving the moment as favorable. In any case, he spoke c</span></span></span><span><span><span>autiously</span></span></span><span><span><span>, </span></span></span><span><span><span>in </span></span></span><span><span><span>between sips of coffee, not to upset his b</span></span></span><span><span><span>rother-in-law</span></span></span><span><span><span>. “He's just very a</span></span></span><span><span><span>pprehensive</span></span></span><span><span><span>. I'm sure you know better than m</span></span></span><span><span><span>e how he gets</span></span></span><span><span><span> when he feels he doesn't have the situation under control.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam could not answer his smile, but took another cookie and ate</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> it in an instant. Cas was grateful, remembering the boy's predisposition to low blood sugar</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and how little he had eaten earlier.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I </span></span></span><span><span><span>appreciate your</span></span></span><span><span><span> hospitality” Sam pulled out of his mouth after drinking a drop of tea with difficulty. He looked up for a moment, accepting the patience of Castiel's eyes, but then immediately went back to l</span></span></span><span><span><span>ooking</span></span></span><span><span><span> into the depths of his cup. “And I'm trying to be a good brother, Cas, </span></span></span><span><span><span>I </span></span></span><span><span><span>really </span></span></span><span><span><span>am</span></span></span><span><span><span>, but D</span></span></span><span><span><span>ean’s</span></span></span><span><span><span> suffocating me with this story. I knew that I should</span></span></span><span><span><span>n’t</span></span></span><span><span><span> h</span></span></span><span><span><span>ave called</span></span></span><span><span><span> you and a</span></span></span><span><span><span>sk</span></span></span><span><span><span>ed</span></span></span><span><span><span> you to pick</span></span></span><span><span><span> me up. I should have just s</span></span></span><span><span><span>ucked it up</span></span></span><span><span><span> and moved on, I acted like a...”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Sam,” Castiel interrupted him, preventing the further deterioration of his self-confidence in a v</span></span></span><span><span><span>oice which proved to be firm</span></span></span><span><span><span> enough to </span></span></span><span><span><span>get</span></span></span><span><span><span> the attention of his brother-in-law back to him. Only t</span></span></span><span><span><span>hen</span></span></span><span><span><span> did C</span></span></span><span><span><span>astiel</span></span></span><span><span><span> continue: “I am </span></span></span><span><span><span>glad</span></span></span><span><span><span> you called us. S</span></span></span><span><span><span>o glad.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Initially those words seemed to comfort Sam, managing to wrest the desperate imitation of a smile, but then a flash seemed to cross those stormy irises. A moment later Sam's gaze became steel, although his fragility was still evident by the way he moved his fingers around the cup and shook his head.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>You won't make me change my mind about Luc,” he d</span></span></span><span><span><span>eclared</span></span></span><span><span><span> in a whisper, as if he w</span></span></span><span><span><span>as</span></span></span><span><span><span> still afraid of another f</span></span></span><span><span><span>ight</span></span></span><span><span><span> like the one with Dean.</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I know. I don't p</span></span></span><span><span><span>resume to be able to do that,”</span></span></span><span><span><span> Cas nodded </span></span></span><span><span><span>in a </span></span></span><span><span><span>resigned </span></span></span><span><span><span>voice</span></span></span><span><span><span>, reaching out to get the sugar. The waitress's philosophy was proving to be a real prophecy for that particular day, after all. “But I still have a proposal f</span></span></span><span><span><span>or</span></span></span><span><span><span> you and I would be grateful if you wanted to listen to me.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>This time Sam's smile lasted a few fractions of a second longer.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I'm still here, aren't I?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Cas nodded, then settled better on the soft </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>bench</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> he was sitting on. That was a substantial moment and he couldn't afford to ruin it, not like </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>he had allowed </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean to dig into Sam until he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>hit the last sensitive spot that the boy</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was ready to sacrifice. If Sam had closed in on himself a little more, a reconciliation would have been unthinkable. So</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Castiel</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> took a deep breath and forced himself to stay</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> humble and neutral, whatever turn the conversation took. If there was a possibility of not losing Sam at the exit of the coffee shop, that was the only way he could hope for it. He had no other weapons than himself now, and that dialectical capacity his mentors </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had praised so much </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>during the countless internships he had carried out.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Luc may have done things that seem inadmissible to me and Dean, while you h</span></span></span><span><span><span>ave a different opinion</span></span></span><span><span><span>. </span></span></span><span><span><span>That’s a</span></span></span><span><span><span>ll right,” he sighed after what l</span></span></span><span><span><span>ooked</span></span></span><span><span><span> like a century. “But you said t</span></span></span><span><span><span>hat</span></span></span><span><span><span> before, you haven't forgiven him yet for d</span></span></span><span><span><span>rinking too much</span></span></span><span><span><span> and for the consequences, which have been b</span></span></span><span><span><span>eyond</span></span></span><span><span><span> measure. A</span></span></span><span><span><span>m I</span></span></span><span><span><span> wrong?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam hesitated, fiddling with the handle of his mug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"We haven't talked yet and I don't know if it's </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>good </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>idea </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>to do it now," he finally answered, choosing the words one by one. “I'm not sure what happened to him, what happened to me, where my fault</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> ends and his begins. It's complicated and I don't know where to start. I think I need time to... to understand.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Okay, it's complicated," Cas nodded quietly. “I </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>can understand you might</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> feel this way. What I want to suggest</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> you is, as the situation evolves and you try to understand what is </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>best </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>thing </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>to do, why don't you stay at our place? You </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>might </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>take some time for yourself, for your thoughts. Spending some time apart</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> can help </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>both partners, sometimes.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam retreated against his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> seat, leaving his eyes wander around the place. It seemed to Cas that he wanted to merge with the people around them and with the happy normalcy they showed to</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the world.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I don't know, Cas.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"It's a compromise that would do everyone good," his brother-in-law</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> took care to add, fearing that he might had got ahead of himself</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>. If everything had gone to hell due to his early gambling, forgiving himself would have been even more difficult. And what the hell, he was a professional, he should have </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>acted like one. “To you and Luc for your relationship. And also to Dean, you know, to keep him quiet.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He realized he had played a good hand as soon as a new sigh loosened Sam's muscles and the boy returned to curl up around his hot tea, putting his elbows on the table and looking thoughtfully at the treats still</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> on the plate.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>The last thing I want is f</span></span></span><span><span><span>or</span></span></span><span><span><span> Dean </span></span></span><span><span><span>to </span></span></span><span><span><span>worry </span></span></span><span><span><span>for me</span></span></span><span><span><span>. If only I could make him understand that he has no reason to </span></span></span><span><span><span>do that</span></span></span><span><span><span>” the younge</span></span></span><span><span><span>st</span></span></span><span><span><span> confided, p</span></span></span><span><span><span>utting</span></span></span><span><span><span> a hand in his hair so that it wouldn't fall on his face. “I exaggerated, last night, I don't seem capable of doing anything else. Luc always says I'm a primadonna.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>"At the risk of repeating myself," Cas insisted, looking into his eyes to make him understand how serious he was about it. “You can call us anytime. As for the rest, you know better than me that Dean has his own protective instinct to deal with. We need to be patient with our older brothers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Saying this, he gave him a smile which was different from the previous ones, a roguish grimace that Sam returned with a simplicity he thought he had forgotten.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Castiel was, just like Sam, the puppy of his family. He had a sister </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>who was three years </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>older than him, Eileen, but especially his brother Michael, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>who was</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> six years older </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>than Cas, had put him to the test in the past. If Eileen had been the one who </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>most encouraged and supported him when it had been</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> time to come out with their very Catholic parents, Michael had proven to be the most protective when it came to exposing his little brother’s true identity to</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> their community.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>And if at first Castiel had been furious at</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him for the limits that the eldest Novak</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> had tried to impose on him, later on he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> realized that everything Michael had planned had been in the name of the need to keep </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>his youngest brother safe</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> from a world that loved him less than he thought. For as long as possible, at least, because the hatred of</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> which certain people are capable could</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> not run</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Castiel</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>down </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>and slam him to the ground during</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his most fragile years. Since he had accepted</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him as an incurable and</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> stiff defender, Cas's relationship with Michael</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> had improved immensely.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I think I could stay with you for a while.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam's voice took</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Castiel </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>away </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>from the memories of </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>those faraway</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> times and immediately the blue of his eyes rose to meet the twenty-six-year-old's cautious gaze. Sam's lips were parted and he was swinging uncertainly on the edge of the next sentence. Finally he bit his lips nervously, measuring his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> words.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Until Luc and I </span></span></span><span><span><span>can </span></span></span><span><span><span>make peace, perhaps.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Of course," Cas approved, imposing himself not to appear too enthusiastic about having achieved his basic goal.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Almost simultaneously, however, a little voice </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>inside him</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> recognized his state of mind and his desire to continue the conversation to check and see if</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> there was, maybe, the possibility to</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> obtain a little more from Sam’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> new attitude.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Just be glad</span>
      </em>, that little voice warned him. But it had to sound unconvincing.</span>
    </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You know, Sam," Cas went on, without wasting time biting his tongue. If he wanted to do it all the way, as he intended, then it was worth not sparing himself and letting regrets rot. “There is something that could help you. To understand what happened to you and Luc, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam gave him an amused look, sipping his tea and showing off a whole new composure.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Is this </span></span></span><span><span><span>when</span></span></span><span><span><span> you send me to therapy?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I'm not going to send you anywhere. I'm barely g</span></span></span><span><span><span>iving</span></span></span><span><span><span> you </span></span></span><span><span><span>a piece of advice,</span></span></span><span><span><span>” Cas corrected him in the same pleasant tone. “Seriously, talking </span></span></span><span><span><span>with</span></span></span><span><span><span> a professional has helped us so much. I </span></span></span><span><span><span>would </span></span></span><span><span><span>just l</span></span></span><span><span><span>ike</span></span></span><span><span><span> to help you find the same relief.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam frowned, careful as always.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Us?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Cas nodded, concentrating on his coffee for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>A few years ago, Dean and I were t</span></span></span><span><span><span>reated</span></span></span><span><span><span> by the same psychotherapist, although almost always separately. A colleague of mine.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>This time Sam's eyes widened, but Cas forced himself to pay no attention to that detail.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>When?”</span></p>
<p>“<span>Autumn of 2006.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>A moment of silence followed and</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Cas did not force </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>it to be anything else. Sam had the right to do </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> math.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Did </span></span></span><span><span><span>D</span></span></span><span><span><span>ad's p</span></span></span><span><span><span>assing</span></span></span><span><span><span> have anything to do with it?” he asked finally, in a whisper.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>His brother-in-law considered the</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> curiosity in his eyes. Sam knew that Cas had had to rely on a psychotherapist as a teenager to be able to come to terms with his homosexuality, as well as to make peace with the fact that his father, on the other hand, would never have been able to accept it</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in complete serenity. And he also knew that his passion for psychology had started right there, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>with </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>that indispensable relationship that had pushed him to study</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> its</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> themes to make it his job. But, at least </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>partially, Dean was still fragile about the therapy experience recommended by Cas after John Winchester's death and, if he had not yet felt comfortable enough to tell</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his brother about it, his husband </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>wouldn’t have</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> blown</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his decision up. It was up to Dean to choose the right moment to take Sam aside and share that part of himself, and Cas, as a trained psychotherapist, had no intention of forcing him. Whether it </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>would have </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>happened the following</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> day or never, the choice remained </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>his partner’s.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Yes, it had something to do with it” Cas finally confirmed, smiling to reassure Sam that everything was okay</span></span></span><span><span><span> now, but he remained true to himself and added nothing else.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The youngest</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> of the Winchester brothers stood staring at him for a few more seconds, until he realized he wasn't going to get another</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> word. Then he nodded, thoughtful, perhaps even with a hint of shame gone up to color his cheeks, and he raised the cup again to take</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> it to his lips. Realizing only in that instant that he had merely</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> touched</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his dose of caffeine, Cas himself sipped </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>some of </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>his almost intact</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> coffee.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>So what do you think?” he asked immediately after, popping his lips in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam was looking at the coffee shop window again. Or rather, he was now looking beyond, seeing the outside. It had almost stopped raining and the street had come alive, repopulating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"I could do it," he said, returning timidly hopeful eyes to his brother-in-law, whose face</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>lighted up a bit. “If you say it could reassure Dean.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel smiled spontaneously, nodding in a satisfied way. Finally something he could work with.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Thanks, Sam. Really, thank you.”</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Once he left Sam next to the Impala – now only occasional droplets fell from the gray swirls in the sky –, Castiel</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> walked up the stairs outside the police station with a heavy heart. Despite what he had achieved was clearly a victory to thank for, he knew that Dean would not be happy with the situation that had arisen with Sam and feared an even more devastating outburst of anger than the previous one. And they could not afford it, neither of them, not if they wanted to save the situation with Sam by the skin of their teeth.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>When Cas pushed the door of the police station and looked around, he found that Dean was still where he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>left him. Sitting on the bench next</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to the entrance, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>he hadn't moved an inch and painted on his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> face he had the same joie de vivre that his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband had witnessed a couple</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> years before,</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> when they </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>found themselves celebrating Christmas with their families without a drop of alcohol on the table, because both Mary and Eileen had forgotten that they should have thought about the drinks. Cas felt </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a feeling of</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> tenderness warm his heart, but he forced himself to keep a straight face</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> as he approached his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband with his hands in his jacket pockets.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as he noticed him, Dean jumped to his feet with wide eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Did you stop him?” he asked at the speed of light.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Cas thought about how much it must have cost him to obey him and not follow him in such a frantic moment, when he was so anxious. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>So</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> he nodded yes, sighing to let go of the little nervousness </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>he had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>left. He had intended to use it to set up a hell of an earful for</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Dean, but, given his condition, he refrained.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"We talked," he admitted then, opposing his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>placidity to Dean’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> excited tone.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Where is h</span></span></span><span><span><span>e</span></span></span><span><span><span>?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>He is waiting for us b</span></span></span><span><span><span>y</span></span></span><span><span><span> the car.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean gave an</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> almost hungry </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>glance </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>towards</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the door, then returned to the two blue eyes that had been holding him up from what seemed like a life</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>time</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> by now.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>D</span></span></span><span><span><span>id</span></span></span><span><span><span> you... </span></span></span><span><span><span>D</span></span></span><span><span><span>id he</span></span></span><span><span><span>...?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"He didn’t</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> change his mind about Luc, if that's what you want to ask me," Cas concluded for him, then raising his usual eyebrow full of meanings. “But I managed to </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>get the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>talk done</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> without one of us</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> yelling in a public place. It's something, don't you think?”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fully struck, Dean swallowed, parted his lips and shook his head slowly in a guilty way.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I didn't know what to do, Cas.”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I know. I know how difficult it is. B</span></span></span><span><span><span>esides</span></span></span><span><span><span>, you </span></span></span><span><span><span>couldn’t</span></span></span><span><span><span> count on the help of a very kind waitress a</span></span></span><span><span><span>nd her</span></span></span><span><span><span> biscuits” he l</span></span></span><span><span><span>ightened the mood</span></span></span><span><span><span>, smiling in front of the other </span></span></span><span><span><span>man’s </span></span></span><span><span><span>confused expression. “I'll tell you later. </span></span></span><span><span><span>N</span></span></span><span><span><span>ow pay attention to what I'm going to say, because we are safe </span></span></span><span><span><span>for now</span></span></span><span><span><span>, but your brother i</span></span></span><span><span><span>s still</span></span></span><span><span><span> t</span></span></span><span><span><span>his</span></span></span><span><span><span>close to</span></span></span><span><span><span> slipping t</span></span></span><span><span><span>hrough our</span></span></span><span><span><span> fingers again and returning to Benson.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>After that, Castiel quickly summed up the succession of events Dean</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> had missed, from when he had run</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in the rain, to Sam, to when the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>youngest </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Winchester had agreed to stay as their guest and give</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> psychotherapy </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a try. When he was done, Dean's lines of expression were no longer furious or on the verge of an anxiety crisis, but they still appeared tense as steel cables.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Still, I must stop him from going after him," he declared when it became clear that Cas was done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Castiel let out</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> an exasperated sigh and glared at him.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>No, Dean.”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>W</span></span></span><span><span><span>hat</span></span></span><span><span><span> do you mean?” </span></span></span><span><span><span>t</span></span></span><span><span><span>he other </span></span></span><span><span><span>one</span></span></span><span><span><span>replied </span></span></span><span><span><span>immediately, and h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is</span></span></span><span><span><span> husband had to make an extra effort to hold on to his patience.</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I mean that if you’</span></span></span><span><span><span>ll</span></span></span><span><span><span> give a direct order to your brother </span></span></span><span><span><span>now </span></span></span><span><span><span>and treat him as if he were a teenager in d</span></span></span><span><span><span>etention</span></span></span><span><span><span>, you will only end up p</span></span></span><span><span><span>ushing</span></span></span><span><span><span> him away. He will return to Luc and p</span></span></span><span><span><span>robably</span></span></span><span><span><span> forever, this time. With the certainty that he is the right person for him and the only one he can confide </span></span></span><span><span><span>in</span></span></span><span><span><span>, because his older brother is identifying himself too much w</span></span></span><span><span><span>ith</span></span></span><span><span><span> the Marine that he never w</span></span></span><span><span><span>as</span></span></span><span><span><span>. That was your father, Dean, and do I really need to remind you what kind of relationship Sam and your father had?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Subjected to that string of warnings, Dean’s face got</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> dark, but he was still far from intending to shut up.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Are you saying I can't even follow him to find out where he g</span></span></span><span><span><span>oes</span></span></span><span><span><span>?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>This time, Castiel rolled his eyes blatantly. He was a step away from saying he understood John Winchester's educational choices: how else could someone succeed in raising Dean, if not by imposing a military regime in his own home? That boy knew how to be exasperating!</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Absolutely not!” he burst out, horrified. “What do you think would happen if Sam found out?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The shrewd look with which Dean raised an eyebrow must have come</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> straight </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>back </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>from his </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>sweet </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>sixteen.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>He w</span></span></span><span><span><span>ouldn’t.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Of course he w</span></span></span><span><span><span>ould</span></span></span><span><span><span>!” Cas protested loudly, managing to make that astute smile fall from his lips. “Dean” he sighed then, t</span></span></span><span><span><span>alking</span></span></span><span><span><span> slowly in yet another attempt to make him understand how his intentions, however good, could prove to be fatal. “We must p</span></span></span><span><span><span>roceed</span></span></span><span><span><span> in small steps. If </span></span></span><span><span><span>we </span></span></span><span><span><span>pressure h</span></span></span><span><span><span>im</span></span></span><span><span><span>, we will lose h</span></span></span><span><span><span>im</span></span></span><span><span><span>. You have to accept this compromise, for the moment, it’s the only way. Or would you prefer Sam to take the first bus to Fairview Avenue?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>No fucking way,”</span></span></span><span><span><span> Dean replied hastily, then </span></span></span><span><span><span>muttered in an </span></span></span><span><span><span>annoyed v</span></span></span><span><span><span>oice</span></span></span><span><span><span>: “I’</span></span></span><span><span><span>ll settle</span></span></span><span><span><span> for the fucking compromise.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span>Thank God,” Castiel murmured before preceding him at the exit.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Outside, the air was cold and full of the humidity of the storm that had just fled elsewhere. Soon,</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the wind </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>would </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>have</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> risen </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>and</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> carried away the residual clouds, people would have started to walk around</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with their faces half-covered by the heavy scarves that the markets sold at every corner. Castiel shivered and buried his mouth in the collar of his jacket as his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband stopped beside him, his eyes fixed on Sam. A little further on, the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>boy</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was leaning against the hood of the Impala, with his arms crossed and his head bowed. He didn't notice them, he never saw with what kind of </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>desperate</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> look</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his older brother embraced him. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>It was almost like Dean had</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> believed he had already lost him.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Who will b</span></span></span><span><span><span>e his</span></span></span><span><span><span>doctor</span></span></span><span><span><span>? F</span></span></span><span><span><span>or the</span></span></span><span><span><span> therapy, I mean.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean's conscientious tone surprised</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Cas, who moistened his lips, chapped by the cold.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I was thinking I </span></span></span><span><span><span>could ask</span></span></span><span><span><span> Celeste.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>That name earned him a curious and amazed glance from his partner.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>You mean Charlie? Our Charlie?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Charlie</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> was</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the nickname</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with which Dean used to refer to Celeste Bradbury. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She was</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Castiel's esteemed colleague, a vibrant soul with a</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> great heart and </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>delightful company for an aperitif after</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> work, and</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> both Cas’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and Dean’s psychotherapist</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in 2006. Their true friendship </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>begun</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> later, as both she and Castiel cared too much about their professionalism to plan sessions with patients who were not far from their daily lives. Now Charlie was a friend, but, not knowing Sam, there was no reason why she couldn't be his psychotherapist.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>S</span></span></span><span><span><span>he</span></span></span><span><span><span> already know</span></span></span><span><span><span>s</span></span></span><span><span><span> something about us. It could be an advantage,” Cas said with a shrug.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Dean seemed to think about it for a few seconds, then nodded responsibly.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>You are the expert. I’ll trust you on this.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Cas could not suppress a wise smile as he gave voice to the first thing that went through his head and elbowed his husband's side.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Oh, finally. P</span></span></span><span><span><span>lease</span></span></span><span><span><span> welcome the first reasonable sentence of y</span></span></span><span><span><span>our</span></span></span><span><span><span> day” he commented ironically.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Dean's reaction was immediate. He turned to him and offered him his best version of the puppy eyes marked Winchester, which, combined with the green of those irises, were more than enough to take Castiel's breath away.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Okay, I admit it. I didn't listen to you and I acted like an idiot,” Dean tried to coax him, pulling his hands out of his pockets to surround </span></span></span><span><span><span>his</span></span></span><span><span><span> waist with his arms and get close to him to the point that the vapor of his breath clouded Cas's vision for a moment. “How can I m</span></span></span><span><span><span>ake it up to you</span></span></span><span><span><span>, Mr. Novak?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Almost no hint of sarcasm. Impressive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><em>Wow, you really feel guilty</em>, Cas thought, stunned and pleased.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>In response, the eldest</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> bared his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> teeth in an allusive smile before bending</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> over</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband's lips. The move was so unexpected that Dean had to take a step back and cling to his shoulders to maintain </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>his </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>balance, then threw himself into that kiss without asking for explanations, enjoying the feverish rhythm imposed by Cas, forgetting that they were in </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>public </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>place</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and that the spectacle they were offering, though they</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> both </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>were</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> dressed from head to toe, was decidedly intense.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>When Cas finally parted from him, satisfied, Dean was out of breath. His</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> husband smiled at him, sparking a similar reaction on the thirty year old's shiny lips, then brought a hand to Dean’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> cheek and caressed it carefully with his thumb.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I h</span></span></span><span><span><span>ave it on good authority</span></span></span><span><span><span> that you are a </span></span></span><span><span><span>resourceful </span></span></span><span><span><span>man,</span></span></span><span><span><span>” he provoked him, making sure that the other captured the spark of interest in his gaze. "I'm sure y</span></span></span><span><span><span>ou’</span></span></span><span><span><span>ll find a </span></span></span><span><span><span>way</span></span></span><span><span><span>, Mr. Winchester. Y</span></span></span><span><span><span>ou might want to look for it </span></span></span><span><span><span>in the bedroom, with clean sheets and fresh flowers in a vase on the bedside table. If you really want to fall into clichés, know that I wouldn't mind a box of chocolates.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Dean came so close to him that he rested his forehead on his. An elderly gentleman passed them by, heading for the police station door, but Dean was too focused on his husband's lips and Cas on his </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>eyes</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to realize the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>man's disapproving look.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Maybe tonight?” Dean proposed in a guttural voice that made Cas shiver to h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is</span></span></span><span><span><span> core. “Do you think you c</span></span></span><span><span><span>ould</span></span></span><span><span><span> find some time for me tonight, Mr. Novak?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>At those words, the grin surfaced on Castiel's mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Oh, believe me, kid, I will always find time when it comes to make</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> you pay," he blew, barely audible. The groan that escaped Dean’s lips, however, emerged loud and clear before the youngest </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>attempted to return to his lips with more eagerness than before. Castiel had to press his hand hard on his chest to keep him away. “Oh no, honey. Not here, not now. You will have to keep it in your pants for a few more hours.”</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>If for the first two seconds Dean kept his mouth open, sincerely shocked at the idea that </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>his husband’s </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>candid soul –</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> at least in public – could</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> choose</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> such a sentence, his amazement turned into resentment as soon as he had to </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>start jogging</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> behind Cas, who started </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>going </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>down the steps without giving him any chance to reply.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"Fuck you, Cas," he hissed, joining his partner.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>In response, Castiel slapped his backside, grinning.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>You watch your mouth</span></span></span><span><span><span>, young m</span></span></span><span><span><span>an</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He wanted to tell him to watch</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his tongue, but any vague reference to sexual matters would have destroyed Dean once and for all and that was neither the right time nor place. So he just used one of his father's favorite statements</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to keep</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his children </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>from </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>cussing. Dean's reaction, however, was something Castiel would never have told</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> his father with such lightness.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>"I hate you," the youngest mumbled, pouting.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Knowing that he was referring to his provocations combined with the unnerving expectation of what would happen that evening, Cas laughed with gusto.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Oh, you t</span></span></span><span><span><span>otally asked for</span></span></span><span><span><span> it! You g</span></span></span><span><span><span>ot</span></span></span><span><span><span> much more </span></span></span><span><span><span>coming</span></span></span><span><span><span> and you know t</span></span></span><span><span><span>hat”</span></span></span><span><span><span> he went back to teasing him, stopping on the sidewalk to turn towards Dean and carefully arrange the collar of his coat. “Relax, okay? If it can help, think a</span></span></span><span><span><span>bout</span></span></span><span><span><span> the things I’ll do to you tonight.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He added that last sentence bringing his mouth closer</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to Dean’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> ear and lowering his voice to the</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> lowest. When he felt Dean shiver under his fingers, he pulled his lips into another satisfied smirk, ignoring the fire </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>which had </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>revived in his partner’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> eyes.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Dean was able to speak again, his voice also sounded like distant thunder.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Cas, I don't give a damn where we are, I swear to God I'm going to t</span></span></span><span><span><span>ake</span></span></span><span><span><span> you face down against the first wall </span></span></span><span><span><span>I can find</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Years earlier, when he had just met Dean, Castiel would have turned </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>the color of </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>sunset if he had heard such a phrase. In fact, he probably would have even lowered his gaze and started to stammer inconsistent sentences, only ending up feeding the alpha male ego that Dean had long believed </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>his. Now, after </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>a</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> five years </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>relationship, he had almost completely lost those unnecessary inhibitions. There were times when he left Dean free to play with his authority </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>games, when that was what he also wanted for the evening. But there were other </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>times when he didn’t </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>let a single clue go unpunished, from puppy eyes to the frightened tenderness that was painted on Dean’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> face when he was excited.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>That day belonged to the second species. Cas knew he shouldn't have given his husband</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>any </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>slack, that Sam was waiting for them – as well as </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>probably </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>watching –, but he couldn't resist Dean when he was in those conditions, so desperate. Instinctively, he took his face in his hands and kissed him again with impetus, getting away</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> from him only to shake his head and look him in the eye, worn out by desire.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>God, the things I'll do to you tonight.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>And without another word he left</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> him there and reached the Impala. It took several seconds for Dean to recover and</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> follow him. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>When he finally got into the car, his blasphemies in a low voice made Cas chuckle till they arrived into the</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> supermarket parking lot.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span><br/>
</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks to everyone leaving kudos and comments”<br/>So what do you think of the chat Cas and Sam had? I liked creating a moment just for them. As much as I like Dean, I felt the need for Cas's calming intercession.<br/>Also, as you may have noticed, I mentioned Cas's family. Michael, in my head, is Matt Cohen. Don't ask me why I thought of Eileen Leahy as Cas's sister. I simply love her as a character and wanted to have her in this story.<br/>I can’t wait to know what you think of this chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The first rose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <span>I’ll leave here a couple of extra time references.</span>
    <br/>
    <span>The story takes place – as I already told you – in 2009 (we’re in December, at the moment), because I wanted to keep the brothers’ birthdays. Right now, Dean and Castiel have been in a relationship for five years, that is since 2004 – but they got married in 2007. The fall of 2006 Castiel and Sam talked about in the previous chapter is mentioned regarding John’s death, which in this story occurs in the summer of 2006. If you have any doubts, feel free to ask.</span>
    <br/>
    <span>Enjoy!</span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <br/>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>It was not until evening that Sam found himself alone again in the guest room. Dealing with groceries and other errands with Dean and Cas had eased his tired mind a little, especially when it had come</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to acting like an uncle and helping his brother-in-law to choose Christmas gifts for his three grandchildren, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>who were</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> ten, six and two years </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>old. But it took little time – an alarmingly</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> little time</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> – for the nameless darkness in his chest to </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>rise and </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>start to choke him</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> again. He had been sitting on his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> bed in </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>utter </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>silence for less than ten minutes when he welcomed the knock on the door as an authentic lifeline.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Once permission was received, Dean peeked on the threshold. With his right</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> hand he was holding</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a steaming bowl, one of the rainbow-painted ceramic ones that Cas loved so much, while the other one was busy with</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>huge </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>glass of water.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam looked at him without saying a </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>word, pursing his lips as the scent of the hot dinner hit his nostrils. The </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>brothers</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> hadn't talked</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to each other since that morning, not really, and now </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>they both could feel </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the weight of a whole day of silence treatment.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>You call this comfort food, right?” the older brother </span></span><span><span>asked</span></span><span><span>, surprising him with s</span></span><span><span>ome</span></span><span><span> gentle irony as he approached the bed to offer him the bowl and </span></span><span><span>to </span></span><span><span>place the glass on the bedside table.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam examined the inside</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> of the bowl only after taking it in his cupped hands. A tight smile, one of those that</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>lately </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>become his sad trademark, surfaced to his thin</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> lips when he saw that the dinner consisted of one of the few vegetarian dishes that Dean had attempted</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to learn to cook after the healthy breakthrough that Sam's diet had undertaken just before </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>he reached </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the age of twenty. Zucchini, chickpeas and</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> stir-fried croutons with an embarrassing amount of curry. Yes, for Sam that was definitely a comforting meal, especially if he thought about the fact that his brother had made</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> it especially for him.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Did Cas send you?” he i</span></span><span><span>nquired</span></span><span><span> then, breaking the silence as he looked up at Dean.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>The thirty-year-old shrugged, daring to show a shrewd grin that reminded Sam of some sunny afternoons of their childhood, perhaps a million years earlier.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Y</span></span><span><span>es and</span></span><span><span> no. I still have freedom of thought and action, what do you think?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Of course you do," Sam teased, raising his eyebrows.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Written clause of o</span></span><span><span>ur</span></span><span><span> marriage contract. </span></span><span><span>You can f</span></span><span><span>ind it just before our respective s</span></span><span><span>afe</span></span><span><span> words.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam made a nauseated grimace and shivered at the thought.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Please, shut up, y</span></span><span><span>ou’re messing up my appetite.”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span>Sucks</span></span><span><span> for you. It's a </span></span><span><span>real turn-on,”</span></span><span><span> Dean replied, flaunting pride.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam chuckled, feigning disgust and feeling immediately lighter. How long </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>ago </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had he and Dean </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>last</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> had a moment </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>just</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> like that, all for them, during which they could</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> tease </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>each other</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> according to the implicit rules of their unbreakable bond? How long had they not allowed themselves the luxury </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>to</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> behave like immature teenagers?</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam pulled</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his hair </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>back </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>and cleared his throat before turning serious again. That brief exchange, however, had been enough for the chill between him and Dean to melt, so that it was with serenity that the conversation continued.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Did he send you s</span></span><span><span>o you could</span></span><span><span> apologize?” Sam </span></span><span><span>investigated</span></span><span><span> again, and his brother buried his hands in his jeans pockets and smacked his lips.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span>Yeah, he did.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam raised an eyebrow and sarcasm returned in his sparkling eyes</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> in a way that Dean thought he had forgotten.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>L</span></span><span><span>ike Mom did</span></span><span><span> when we fought?”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span>A tremendously similar thing. It is almost disturbing when you think about it. I married my m</span></span><span><span>other</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span>And you a</span></span><span><span>nswered</span></span><span><span> with </span></span><span><span>an</span></span><span><span> i</span></span><span><span>nsolent </span></span><span><span><em>O</em></span></span><span><span><em>r what</em></span></span><span><span><em>?</em></span></span><span><span>, </span></span><span><span>like you did</span></span><span><span> with </span></span><span><span>Mo</span></span><span><span>m?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Dean snorted.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Let's be a</span></span><span><span>ccurate</span></span><span><span>, please: I only </span></span><span><span>answered that way</span></span><span><span> if Dad was not home. I wasn't stupid. And I </span></span><span><span>didn’t have a death wish”</span></span><span><span> he pointed out, raising both eyebrows eloquently. </span></span><span><span>“</span></span><span><span>And you n</span></span><span><span>eed to</span></span><span><span> know that m</span></span><span><span>y husband is no joke either”.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span>If you are about to s</span></span><span><span>tart</span></span><span><span> a story that includes handcuffs and r</span></span><span><span>iding-crops</span></span><span><span>, tell me r</span></span><span><span>ight now</span></span><span><span>” Sam reacted, placing the full bowl next to the glass of water and quickly opening the empty drawer to pretend h</span></span><span><span>e was looking</span></span><span><span> for something. “I’</span></span><span><span>m sure I</span></span><span><span> have ear plugs somewhere.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Too bad, because this thing could feed your </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>hunger for gossip," Dean</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> pointed out, leaning towards him conspiratorially. “Once, Cas had the nerve to ban</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> me </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>from, let’s say,</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>all kinds of shared sexual satisfaction </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>for a whole month.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>At that revelation, Sam dropped the comedy act</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and looked at him with wide</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> eyes. Suddenly he found himself drawn back</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to several years earlier, when he and Dean used to spend whole nights</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> telling each other stories – </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>even before they were red-light – </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>about</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> their past and present relationships.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>W</span></span><span><span>hat</span></span><span><span>?” he exclaimed, genuinely shocked. “When? Why?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dean laughed and motioned for</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> him to make room on the comforter. So the two brothers found themselves sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing each other with that clever joy in their eyes. All they should have done to</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> complete the time travel</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> was cover their heads with the sheets and turn on a flashlight. Sam almost expected to see their</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> mother or father emerge from the corridor at any moment to tell them</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> that it was time to go to bed, that they </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>better not</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> fuss </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>about it </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>and that </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>no, Dean, you have already had five </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>more</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> minutes.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>So, w</span></span><span><span>e’re talking</span></span><span><span> about the weekend I met his parents, okay?” </span></span><span><span>the eldest</span></span><span><span> began, settling on the bed and taking his t</span></span><span><span>oes</span></span><span><span> with his hands, just as he had always done during one of his confessions. “Cas and I had been together for a year. It was Sunday, so we went to church with all his family. You know what they are like, don't you? They take it seriously. Well, </span></span><span><span>there </span></span><span><span>we are, listening to the priest's sermon. In the row in front of us are Mr </span></span><span><span>and Mrs </span></span><span><span>Novak, then Michael with his wife and </span></span><span><span>their</span></span><span><span> two children. Here in the third row are Eileen and her husband, </span></span><span><span>me and Cas</span></span><span><span>. You know me, Sammy. You know how I g</span></span><span><span>et</span></span><span><span> when I w</span></span><span><span>ant</span></span><span><span> to say something. And </span></span><span><span>I had been waiting since </span></span><span><span>t</span></span><span><span>he</span></span><span><span> beginning of the mass to point out to Cas how s</span></span><span><span>tiff</span></span><span><span> Michael l</span></span><span><span>ooked</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Dean let out a chuckle and, if possible, Sam opened</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his eyes even more, sensing where his brother was going with that.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"No," he whispered, stunned. “Don't tell me you really...”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>It was bad timing</span></span><span><span>, okay? You know </span></span><span><span>that momentn</span></span><span><span>after the sermon, when the priest </span></span><span><span>allows the...</span></span><span><span> the faithful a few moments to think </span></span><span><span>it </span></span><span><span>over?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He left Sam a second to nod, then went on, seasoning everything with that not at all regretful little smile of his.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>I didn't do it on purpose, I swear! I h</span></span><span><span>adn’t</span></span><span><span> realize</span></span><span><span>d</span></span><span><span> that i</span></span><span><span>t </span></span><span><span>had </span></span><span><span>got so quiet</span></span><span><span> around us. I just leaned over Cas and said </span></span><span><span><em>Listen, w</em></span></span><span><span><em>as</em></span></span><span><span><em>...” </em></span></span><span><span><span>H</span></span></span><span><span>e stopped because h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> laughter was running out of his mouth and he made an enormous effort to regain the necessary control to conclude the sentence: “</span></span><span><span><em>Listen, was y</em></span></span><span><span><em>our brother</em></span></span><span><span><em> born with that </em></span></span><span><span><em>stick up</em></span></span><span><span><em> his ass or did the priests </em></span></span><span><span><em>insert it in Sunday school</em></span></span><span><span><em>?</em></span></span><span><span>”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The laughter that followed was so detonating that it nearly covered Sam's reaction.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Jesus Christ, Dean! T</span></span><span><span>here goes Cas’s</span></span><span><span> parents’ </span></span><span><span>blessing</span></span><span><span>!” </span></span><span><span>the youngest boy</span></span><span><span> exclaimed, but he was laughing too.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>How could he have refrained from doing it when his brother had tears in his eyes and was holding his belly in memory of what had happened?</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>In a</span></span><span><span>ny other</span></span><span><span> moment, Cas would have a</span></span><span><span>ppreciated</span></span><span><span> the joke and </span></span><span><span>that would have been it</span></span><span><span>!” Dean defended </span></span><span><span>himself</span></span><span><span>, running a hand over his face in an attempt to p</span></span><span><span>ull</span></span><span><span> himself </span></span><span><span>together</span></span><span><span>. “Well, to make a long story short, the whole family heard me. Including Michael, as if the fact that I was serious a</span></span><span><span>bout</span></span><span><span> his little brother was not enough to warn him about me. God, thinking it over is really too much fun.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>"I bet you didn't think so during that lonely month," Sam teased him, and Dean gave him a playful push on his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>The point is, you little shit,” he continued, trying to return to the composure required by the initial topic, “that I learned not to disappoint my husband's expectations, if I can. So I came to make sure you ate something, but also to apologize for attacking you today” he swallowed, now damn serious. “I want you to feel comfortable here, Sammy. I want you to be fine.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>"I feel fine, here with you," Sam replied sincerely, without thinking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>That apartment was the place that, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>in his heart, was</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> closest to a home, and after chatting with Cas he felt much better about</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> approaching its inhabitants </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>too. If that bright moment he had just shared with his brother was not an indication of how much his mood had improved, he didn’t</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> know what could have </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>been. Of course, it was only the beginning of what was meant</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to be a long road.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>A</span></span><span><span>bout</span></span><span><span> today, Dean... it's all right, really. Let's not think about it anymore, okay? </span></span><span><span>Let’s</span></span><span><span> look forward.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Okay," Dean nodded carefully, before smiling at him </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>in the</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> affectionate way </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>that </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>never failed to remind Sam of</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> their mother and that, Sam</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> was sure, would have made</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Dean an extraordinary father, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>one day. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>“Would you like</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to come and stay in the living room</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> with us? Cas rented a DVD from the library and maybe</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> this time it’s not</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> some lame</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> documentary about the reproduction of otters.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas, which right in that</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> moment was going down the corridor, back from the bathroom, stopped to give</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> him with a murderous look.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>I heard you, you m</span></span><span><span>outhy brat,”</span></span><span><span> he scolded him grimly, and Dean stuck out h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> tongue </span></span><span><span>in his direction</span></span><span><span> before h</span></span><span><span>is husband</span></span><span><span> returned to the living room.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam smiled gratefully, but retreated against the headboard of the bed clutching his knees to his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Maybe I'll catch up with you later. I don't know, I'm a little tired,” he admitted.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>For a moment he thought that Dean would get mad, but all he saw in his eyes was a flash of displeasure that the eldest</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> suffocated</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> immediately with a sympathetic nod. After all, Sam thought, Dean</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> had brought </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>him</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> dinner. Somehow he knew, he understood that Sam would have preferred to be </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>left </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>alone and he wasn't angry at</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> him about it.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Okay, as you wish," he said, getting up from the bed without pressuring him. “Should you need</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> anything, just call. All right?”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam nodded yes, turning to the bedside table to retrieve his bowl of food. The vegetables were hot</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> when Dean had brought them</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>but now they were</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> at the best</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> temperature to be consumed. He began to eat as Dean left the room and thought to himself how many times, that day, Cas and Dean had told him that he could count on them for whatever he needed.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam shivered when his cold lips welcomed the first warm bite. Then, when he was finally alone, he checked his cellphone: no messages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Just in case, he opened the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Whatsapp chat with Luc's name </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>on top. The last message was from the night before and it was what Sam had written in an attempt to mitigate the anger that would have pervaded his boyfriend once he had not found him in front of the library, because Dean had preceded him. After that, nothing. Not even the last access was displayed. Everything was silent.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>On Monday morning, Castiel arrived at his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> office two hours before his first</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> appointment of the day and – a detail that made his </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>and his </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>associates’</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> secretary</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> very concerned – did not observe his usual ritual at the coffee machine in the waiting room. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He immediately dived </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>into the main corridor.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The study was still almost deserted and the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>man</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> was happy, because he feared that the signs of the weekend </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>that had</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> just passed would still furrow his face like scars, making it horrible if not deformed. Not that everything had gone in the worst way. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Quite</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the contrary, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>actually. He and Dean had managed to spend </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>some</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> real quality time together and on Sunday morning Sam's company at </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>mass had been a pleasant change of schedule, given that nine times out of ten his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> husband forfeited to stay </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>home and snore</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> under</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the covers. But it hadn't been a relaxing weekend. On the contrary, Castiel had felt like he was in the midst of a difficult case at work and the fact that he could only blame himself was not exactly a consolation.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few decisive steps, the man stopped in front of the second door on the left and raised his arm to knock decisively. He was clearing his throat when the door swung open in front of him and the youngest of his colleagues, a girl with short red hair who could speak at the same speed with which a turbine processes water, stood before him. As soon as she recognized him, she gave him a lively smile.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Hey, Cas!”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He was wearing a fuchsia shirt under a mustard-colored sweater and for some reason that unlikely combination managed to calm Castiel's anxious</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> soul a little. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>The man</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> sighed as he accepted the girl's silent invitation to enter.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Hi, Celeste," he returned, taking a few steps into his colleague's forcibly neat study.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nearly choked on the sip of black tea she was drinking before glaring at him.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Use that name again and you'll end up with an abnormal amount of salt in your mid-morning </span></span><span><span>cup of </span></span><span><span>coffee” </span></span><span><span>s</span></span><span><span>he threatened, and Cas smiled paternally in front of h</span></span><span><span>er</span></span><span><span> indignation.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span>Is it or is it not the name you were baptized with?”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span>Oh </span></span><span><span>sweet </span></span><span><span>Jesus, seriously? You have been warned, Novak,” she replied more fiercely, overcoming him with great strides to reach the area </span></span><span><span>that was </span></span><span><span>furnished as a modest sitting room and to be able to put the cup on the </span></span><span><span>small coffee</span></span><span><span> table. “Dean d</span></span><span><span>idn’t have</span></span><span><span> any problem calling me Charlie from the beginning.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel’s smile grew larger, feeling soothed by that light exchange.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>You’re forgetting that Dean is a special child.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Charlie rolled her eyes, spreading her arms blatantly.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Okay, I’</span></span><span><span>m giving</span></span><span><span> up. But </span></span><span><span>since </span></span><span><span>I doubt you asked me to meet during o</span></span><span><span>ffice</span></span><span><span> hours to r</span></span><span><span>emind me</span></span><span><span> how wonderful your husband is,” she deduced, collapsing to </span></span><span><span>a</span></span><span><span> sit</span></span><span><span>ting position</span></span><span><span> on one of the two sofas available, </span></span><span><span>like</span></span><span><span> a victorious teenager, before pointing to the place next to the h</span></span><span><span>ers. “So </span></span><span><span>take a seat and tell everything to dear old aunt Charlie.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Castiel</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> hesitated, but after a few seconds he complied</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> in complete silence, feeling his apprehension going back to growing until it tied his bowels. Charlie was always an excellent distraction, but in those days nothing seemed to be able to comfort him for more than a few seconds. Once he found himself sitting next to his friend, Cas joined his hands in his lap and felt as inappropriate</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> as when, in elementary school, the priest of his church asked him to confess his sins. He had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had to give himself time</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to become an</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> adult to question that practice and wonder what kind of sins an eight-year-old brat </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>could ever</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> report. How long would it have taken him</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to feel comfortable with Sam's situation?</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>I chose not to bring all this out d</span></span><span><span>uring</span></span><span><span> one of our aperitifs because what I want to talk to you about is a very delicate matter,” he began </span></span><span><span>explaining</span></span><span><span>, keeping his eyes fixed on the carpet under his shoes.</span></span></p>
<p>“<span>It’s what I expected,” Charlie nodded calmly.</span></p>
<p>“<span><span>I</span></span><span><span>t’s a work thing. In some ways.”</span></span></p>
<p>“<span>Okay.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas swallowed and braced himself before grabbing all his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> courage and jumping </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>into the mess in his head.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>It’s</span></span><span><span> Dean's brother, Sam. You don't know him, but </span></span><span><span>I think </span></span><span><span>Dean c</span></span><span><span>ould have</span></span><span><span> told you about h</span></span><span><span>im</span></span><span><span> during h</span></span><span><span>is</span></span><span><span> sessions </span></span><span><span>with you</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Charlie nodded conscientiously.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>It was one of his most discussed topics, yes.”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span>It still is. Dean c</span></span><span><span>ouldn’t love him more</span></span><span><span>. And m</span></span><span><span>e</span></span><span><span> too, Sam is... he's like a younger brother for me too,” Cas stammered, starting to feel a familiar feeling of numbness o</span></span><span><span>n</span></span><span><span> the tip</span></span><span><span>s</span></span><span><span> of his fingers.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He was about to get lost again in the dark hues of his thoughts when Charlie's gentle voice held out a hand.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Just get this out, Cas. You know as well as me that y</span></span><span><span>ou</span></span><span><span> will f</span></span><span><span>eel</span></span><span><span> better afterwards.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"I </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>seriously </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>doubt it," Cas exhaled with a </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>suffering </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>grimace </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>on his face, but a moment later he agreed to look Charlie in the eye. “The thing is, I persuaded</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Sam to get some trauma counseling. I told him he could do good to his relationship </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>with his boyfriend. I would like</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> you to</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> be his psychotherapist.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although he sensed that his words were hiding more, Charlie nodded to encourage him.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Because you can't.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>"Because I'm too close to him and that excludes me from the games," Cas confirmed. “But also because I put a lot of trust in you and in your ability to do your job better than anyone else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>That was the first time</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Charlie wavered and took extra time to peer at Castiel. The solemnity</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> of his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> speech was not exactly something new for her, her colleague had always shown to be very scrupulous inside and outside the office. But the anguished expression</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> that followed him everywhere that morning was not Castiel’s typical approach</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and appeared as a dark omen that could numb even the joie de vivre of that ray of sunshine that Charlie Bradbury </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>was.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Cas, what's going on?” the girl asked then, putting a hand on t</span></span><span><span>he man’s</span></span><span><span> shoulder and lowering her voice in an attempt to put him at ease. When he had been his patient, Cas had always reacted well to calm places. “Because it seems clear from your v</span></span><span><span>oice</span></span><span><span> that we are not talking about some </span></span><span><span>light </span></span><span><span>argument between p</span></span><span><span>artners</span></span><span><span>, </span></span><span><span>here</span></span><span><span>.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas closed his eyes and swallowed again. For some reason, those words made him go back</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to the weekend </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>that had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>just ended, to all the small occasions he had had to observe Sam without the boy realizing</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> it. His behavior could seem almost completely normal to Dean, who looked at Sam with the eye of a</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> worried</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> older brother and was happy even </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>just</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> if the little one of</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the family didn't have too much trouble sleeping and ate</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> properly. But had, fortunately or unfortunately, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Castiel had his professional’s</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> eye to deal with. And, as a psychotherapist, he could not help but notice the psychological mark of the violence his brother-in-law </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had suffered.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Although Dean still hadn't noticed or recognized them for what they were, Sam already had several emotional imbalances, fears and phobias related to the time when he had to</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> have suffered the worst violence Lucifer Benson </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had inflicted.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Castiel</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> had noticed how the nightfall,</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>arrival of the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>dark, made Sam nervous. He had seen that every time he got in</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a room, Sam </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>would </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>anxiously wait for a conversation to start or, if he could not resist, would turn on the radio or </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>television. He had seen how he managed to fall asleep only if</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the door of</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his room remained open. Finally, he noticed with growing dismay that Sam didn't want to sit on the sofa. Rather, if not on one of the kitchen stools, he would sit on the floor, totally</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> ignoring his brother's protests.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>All those notes collected were, in Cas's eyes, pure and simple symptoms that told a story. A horror story that Cas now saw painted in his head with far too much precision. Those few hours of direct observation were enough </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>and on</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Sunday, after lunch, Castiel</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> had reached a certain verdict: Lucifer Benson had taken Sam against his will on the sofa in the living room of his luxurious cottage, behind closed doors, and he had done it in silence, as if all that</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> was due to him. That same silence that now froze Sam's veins and made him claustrophobic and restless when darkness fell.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"No, </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>we’re not," he finally managed to answer. When he got back</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to Charlie’s face, the blue of his eyes was made even more intense by the restrained tears. “No, we’re talking... we’re talking</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> about violence that has been going on for an unknown number of days. Beatings, Celeste. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>Severe beatings, and many. And rape. One </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>time, as far as we know, but we can't be one hundred percent sure.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The still silence that fell would have torn Sam to pieces. Castiel was making a mental note to warn Charlie about it later, when she finally managed to react to the bomb that had just been dropped, barely opening her lips.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Who... who did t</span></span><span><span>hat</span></span><span><span>?”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Castiel nodded, exhausted but resolute to go all the way. He owed at least this to Sam.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>His boyfriend. The m</span></span><span><span>an</span></span><span><span> Sam cares about enough to protect him, to be willing to forgive him with a snap of his fingers. And now, predictably, Sam says nothing wrong </span></span><span><span>happened</span></span><span><span>. He says t</span></span><span><span>hat sexual assault</span></span><span><span> never happened. As if it w</span></span><span><span>asn’t</span></span><span><span> obvious </span></span><span><span>it did,”</span></span><span><span> Castiel r</span></span><span><span>anted</span></span><span><span>, and that was the moment that broke h</span></span><span><span>im</span></span><span><span>.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>A sob escaped from his throat and all the fear that he had forced himself not to show in front of the Winchesters, to those he considered his proteges, crept into him. He sniffed, wiped his eyes quickly, but then his gaze rested on his trembling hands and a small tormented laugh ran from his lips, destroying him.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>God, look at me. I couldn't take care of him even if I wanted to.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Charlie ended his self-pity act by grabbing those trembling hands and holding them firmly as she consoled his colleague with a stern but supportive look.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>I'm sure you and Dean are taking </span></span><span><span>great </span></span><span><span>care of him. I have no doubt about it”. T</span></span><span><span>hen</span></span><span><span>s</span></span><span><span>he got up, leaving him alone and disoriented for a few seconds before c</span></span><span><span>oming back</span></span><span><span> with a glass of water. “Here, t</span></span><span><span>ake this.</span></span><span><span>”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Surprised by her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> zeal, Castiel drank without saying a word, thanking her with a nod of his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> head. Charlie just smiled at him confidently.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Now g</span></span><span><span>ive yourself</span></span><span><span> a minute or two. Breathe. Put your thoughts in order and tell me everything calmly. Ther</span></span><span><span>e’s</span></span><span><span> no hurry.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Cas started shaking</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> his head.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Celeste...”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>But she preceded him. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>She knew his fears. But as he himself </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>said, Charlie Bradbury knew how to do her</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> job better than most, if not anyone. And </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>she meant to earn</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the trust Castiel was placing in her by entrusting her with a case that meant so much to him.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>G</span></span><span><span>etting</span></span><span><span> an idea of your point of view will help me get started. You also know Sam's timetable, </span></span><span><span>so </span></span><span><span>you can help me f</span></span><span><span>ix a date for the first appointment</span></span><span><span>. Leave it to me to be objective, colleague,” </span></span><span><span>s</span></span><span><span>he reassured him, removing him from the hindrance of compromised professionalism.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>And slowly, fortunately after less than two minutes, Cas managed to start breathing</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> again.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Sam reached his locker, about ten minutes after the end of his Monday shift, he was exhausted. Not that anything sensational had happened in the library. The usual papers, the usual questions, the usual fixed smiles – even if that day every stretching his lips in this sense had caused him intense pangs of nausea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing had exploded, no one had been furious or had even uttered a snort or said a word too many. If anything, the opposite: the silence had been complete, a fly had not flown. Not even between Sam and Donna. The two worked a desk away from each other, often had to collaborate to do their job, yet that day, for the first time since they had met, they had done so without making a sound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or rather, let's be precise. Donna had made an attempt. Only one, about half an hour after the start of the joint shift with Sam, but it had cost her a lot.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Honey, I know maybe I should m</span></span><span><span>ind my own beeswax</span></span><span><span>, but the fact that you a</span></span><span><span>ren’t</span></span><span><span> talk</span></span><span><span>ing</span></span><span><span> about it is just making me worry more. M</span></span><span><span>ay</span></span><span><span> I know what happened to you?” </span></span><span><span>s</span></span><span><span>he asked in a contrite whisper, both because </span></span><span><span>s</span></span><span><span>he was renewing a </span></span><span><span>book </span></span><span><span>loan and the student was less than two meters away, and because </span></span><span><span>s</span></span><span><span>he found it difficult to say a word after having even looked at Sam's face.</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>As the weekend went by, the bruise on Sam's left cheekbone had worsened. It</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> was trying to heal, nothing to worry about, but now it was</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a shade of purple</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> that made it look even nastier</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> than the dark blue it</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> had become</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> a few hours after that particular series of smacks. In addition, the wound on his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> temple was made even more visible by the protective patch</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> Jody had recommended to change every day while they waited</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> for the right time to remove the stitches.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>When Donna </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>asked him that question, Sam had felt under pressure. His</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> friend had turned to him with all her sweetness, but it hadn’t</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> made much difference to Sam. Realizing that she had actually already understood </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>what had happened </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>hadn't given him comfort; if anything, it had made him feel like he was suffocating, with two hands clenched around his throat. Already stressed by the ambiguous attitude that Dean and Cas continued to maintain in his presence, Sam had not even wasted time looking for a drop of residual patience. He had sprung, cold and unfriendly as he had never been with his colleague.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span>Maybe you should really learn to m</span></span><span><span>ind</span></span><span><span> your own business, Donna.”</span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>That had shut her up for good. By the time eight p.m.</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> had come, the girl had rushed to retrieve her gym bag from her locker and Sam hadn't followed her. On the contrary, he had taken some more time</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to be sure not to meet her again at the exit. </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>He had waited for those who had to replace him without even resenting the delay. On his way </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>to the lockers, he had felt small, insignificant, rotten inside for the way</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> he had answered</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> to Donna's concern. His</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> best friend had worried about his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> state</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> and he, in response, had only managed to freeze her on the spot. Sometimes he looked like his father in a way </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>that frightened him.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>Sam shivered at the thought and forced himself not to dwell on it too much. To distract himself, he started to move quickly and he opened his locker with a </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>strong </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>pull, causing the door to slam against the one next to it for too much enthusiasm. He stifled a curse and made a dash for</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the bag he had left in the locker, when something placed over his belongings distracted him. A blink of an eye later, Sam found himself nailed to the ground, with his lips parted in amazement and his gaze fixed on the intense color of the flower.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>A red rose. A magnificent red rose had appeared in his</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> locker. Sam reached out to take it, being careful not to be pricked by</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the thorns. One still managed to prick his finger, but the slight pain allowed</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> the boy to notice the note </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>which had been</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> attached to the stem. Sam read it and swallowed.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Drinking Violet, 25<sup>th</sup> July 2009.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew that handwriting and had a clear idea of the moment that short message referred to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>The place and day he </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>had </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>met Luc. He remembered it well. He would never forget his first rose.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <span>Many thanks and a thousand chocolate hearts to those who comment and leave kudos *-*</span>
  <br/>
  <span>I’ll be waiting for your opinions on this chapter full of brotherhood (?), drama (describing Castiel with tears in his eyes must be a crime against humanity, because I've been feeling guilty since I wrote that piece) and flowers.</span>
  <br/>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Drinking Violet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>- 25th July 2009 -</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em><span>Sam had never been a big fan of the Drinking Violet. It was one of those modern pubs which, despite being out of</span></em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> the university population’s sight, had expanded its offer</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> to include a large variety of long drinks, in addition to the best beers </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>one could find </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>in the area. It was probably that combination of styles that made it one of the most praised</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> meeting places by</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> both Dean and Cas, who were the ones who had convinced Sam to go out that Saturday night in the first place.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>It was just </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>a few minutes </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>after </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>eleven p.m.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> and the tables in the joint</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> were almost all occupied. Sam could not have said it with certainty with regard to</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> those placed on the platform at the bottom of the bar, to the right of the counter beyond which three bartenders were at work, but </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>in</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> the central area in which he, Dean and Cas were sitting</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>there </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>was a </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>constantly</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> cheerful buzz. Nobody cared about them, everyone was busy forgetting the week of hard work </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>that had</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> just ended and laughing at it in their conversations</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> with friends and partners, and perhaps it was thanks to that sense of rampant anonymity that Cas had let himself go a little more than usual.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Sam was giggling silently</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> at the blissful expression his brother-in-law had printed on his face as Castiel</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> stirred his cocktail with the wooden umbrella that </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>came with it. The boy</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> was exchanging an amused glance with Dean, </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>who was</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> evidently about to make a joke about it, when the waiter took them by surprise.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>In front of the perplexed faces of the Winchester brothers, the young man in jeans and forest green shirt smiled before placing</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> what Sam recognized as a </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Sex </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>On </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>The </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Beach prepared with skill in front of him. For a moment Sam didn't know what to say and all he could do was to </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>shift his gaze</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> from his now empty glass of Blue Mojito to the colorful drink that just arrived. The bartender had wanted to exaggerate: on the external wall of the glass, with its</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> stem held upright by a gold-colored wire, stood out a rose with a glorious and delicate appearance, a scarlet red </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>rose</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> like Sam had never seen </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>one.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>"There's a mistake," Dean said finally.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em>Yes, I didn't order </em><em>this,”</em><em> Sam repeat</em><em>ed, giving the waiter</em><em> a look of apology.</em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>The young man just smiled again, this time with a hint of complicity in his eyes.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>"You didn't, but he did," he responded, nodding towards one of the tables on the </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>distant </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>platform. “Enjoy.”</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>When he left, both Sam and Dean were still staring at the vague</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> point </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>he had </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>indicated, trying to recognize</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> a face in the shadows that reigned over</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> that side of the room. It was evident that someone was sitting there, but his figure could hardly be guessed. He was a man, however, someone who raised his glass in the air as soon as Sam blinked in that direction in an attempt to better distinguish who had just offered him a drink. This was enough for the boy's cheeks to </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>blush</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> and </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>for </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>his eyes to take refuge on the polite surface of the table. His fingers were already stroking it</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> nervously and maniacally and his older brother was about to say something unpleasant, he knew it. But neither had taken into account Castiel's low </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>mental </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>clarity.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>O</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>h, b</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ravo</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>!” </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>t</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>he m</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>an</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> commented with </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>far</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> too much e</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>nthusiasm</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>, as if waking up from a dream in front of the </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>still intact</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> Sex </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>O</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>n </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>T</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>he </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>B</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>each. “W</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>e needed</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> something to s</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>hake things up here</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>. Well done, Sam.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Dean chuckled and shook his head as he heard the</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> rise and fall </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>of</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> the waves of drunkenness in </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>his voice, but Sam only felt warmer</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> than before.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>"I didn't do anything," he mumbled, embarrassed.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>And despite that, you m</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>anaged to attract</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> an admirer. </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>I’</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ll drink</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> to th</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>at</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>” Cas insisted, raising his glass of Long Island Iced Tea towards the other two solemnly.</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>The third glass of Long Island, one</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> should emphasize. Which made him understandably tipsy.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>T</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>hat’s so lame,”</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> Dean murmured instead, taking a sip of his Dandy's Last Stand and forgetting for a moment how adorable h</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>is</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> husband was when he was deprived of the brakes his Catholic education </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>had imposed him</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>.</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>His brother's eyes snapped at once, his brow furrowed in the characteristic way Sam had of showing disappointment.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em>What?”</em></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>Offering someone something to drink without showing your face</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>is for cowards,”</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> Dean went on, undaunted, pointing to the man </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>who </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>presumably </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>was</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> still hid</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ing</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> in the darkness. “If he likes you, why doesn't he come </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>here </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>and talk to you? And why the hell is he standing there in the dark? It's c</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>reepy</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>"Maybe he's shy," Cas pointed out, raising his eyebrows exaggeratedly.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>"Or maybe he's just trying to do things right, gracefully," Sam </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>remarked, feeling oddly protective of the stranger who had offered</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> him another round. With one of his favorite cocktails, by the way, without considering the allusions that the name of the drink bore with </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>it. In order to corner his</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> brother, he lifted the rose that accompanied the glass and took</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> it to his</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> face, finding that it smelt</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> like</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> spring. “Not everyone crossed out the word romance from their vocabulary, you know, Dean?”</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>"Yeah," Cas got engaged, rather </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>excited.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> Even if, in his condition, his</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> indignation showed itself </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>like</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> a mixture of childish</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> complaints, </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>which were </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>more tender than annoying. “You know, Dean? Flowers, flowers, flowers, how long since the last time you </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>gave</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> me</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>flowers?”</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>"It's nice to know you've already forgotten </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>the roses you got </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>last week," Dean said in an unimpressed tone of voice, raising an eyebrow as he emptied his</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> beer bottle with one last sip.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>R</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>oses c</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>an go suck a lemon</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>, I want a sunflower. And a hamster who’</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ll eat</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> its seeds,” Cas </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>said </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>dreamily. All of a sudden, he p</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>laced</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> an elbow on the table and slid softly towards h</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>is</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> husband, t</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>urning to</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>, if possible, an even more whining tone of voice. “Dean, I want a hamster. They are so soft, I need o</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ne</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>. You are not soft at all.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Sam nearly choked on his</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> first sip of Sex </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>On </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>The Beach, after which his laughter exploded without restraint. Dean, on the other hand, simply ignored him in order to cast a stern look at Cas, one of those </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>looks</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> with which</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> he used to inform</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> that he had had enough.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>"Okay, it seems clear to me that I should have stopped you two drinks ago," he </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>then </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>asserted in a neutral tone, getting up to approach the still half full glass of his partner.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Cas had to misunderstand his behavior, because he rested his head on his chest with satisfaction.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>"I'm </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>calling</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> her</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> Isotta," he announced, </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>deeply</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> satisfied </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>with his choice.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>O</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>f course</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>, my love. But now </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>be a</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> good </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>boy</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> and give me that drink, none of us want</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>s</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> to find out what you could say with another sip.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>"Actually, </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>I do," Sam clarified, holding</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> a straw between his teeth and </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>wearing </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>a treacherous grin on his lips.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>If Dean looked more and more like the tolerant health care provider of a nursing home, Cas melted into a chuckle that would have belonged in a madhouse.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>Do you think</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> I could tell Sam about that time I was h</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>aving</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> a meeting and you waited for me s</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>itting on</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> the armchair of my study i</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>n nothing but...”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>Castiel </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>Andrew </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>Novak!” Dean interrupted him w</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ith downright alarm in his voice</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>, and then </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>he</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> sighed in front of the new burst of laughter c</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>oming from</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> his brother and the chuckle of his p</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>artner. Then he</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> stretch</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ed</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> an arm o</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>n</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> the table. H</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>e </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>was using t</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>he other one</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> to support h</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>is</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> husband, who continued to prove unstable on the stool despite having now leaned against D</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ean’s</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> chest like a marsupial puppy with his mother. “Give me that glass immediately. I'm not kidding.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>O</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>r what, uh? W</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>hat are you g</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>oing to do</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> to me?” Cas replied, this time halfway between a laugh and a provocative misguided pose.</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Sam would have given gold to find out how his brother-in-law intended to continue that conversation, really. He could not wait to hear some other enlightened sentence that </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>he </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>could have rubbed his face in</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> for months, all due respect to Dean and his</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> false modesty. But it was just then that someone showed up at their table, distracting him from the hilarious dance that Cas was forcing Dean to go along with. And this time it wasn't the waiter.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>He was a tall man, though not as tall as Sam, and the black leather jacket that even Dean should have approved stood out on</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> his figure. But it was his face that captured Sam's interest and made him stop paying attention to what was happening around him. Behind the ruffled blond hair and a hint of beard hid a pair of blue eyes, which were staring at Sam with a sort of allusive melancholy, and a pair of lips with a half smile </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>on. Sam's first thought was how good</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> they would have looked</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> on his </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>own lips, with the result that he turned cherry-red even before the boy who </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>had </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>just appeared could say</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> his</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> first word.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>Excuse me,” he began, moistening th</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>o</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>se lips and raising his eyebrows in an attempt to appear awkward that even a child would have unmasked in a few seconds. “I'm the cheeky one who tried to get you alcohol before he even showed up. A</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>m I bothering you</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>?”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Sam opened his mouth to reply </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>just to find out</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> that his throat had gone dry.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>He didn’t mind the confidence that oozed from that look, from those brazen eyes that were looking</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> at him, on the contrary. He fought to shake the thrill that had run down his back off </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>himself.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> For a moment he stared at the stranger's leather necklace, trying to focus on the silver angel wing pendant to recover, but a blink of an eye later</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> his eyes were lost again in those two heavenly wells.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em>No, you’re not,” he forced himself to respond with a nervous smile. “Absolutely not. I…”</em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>He didn't know what to add. He never knew, because in that instant Cas's indignant scream distracted them all, plus the young ladies </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>who were</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> sitting at</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> the nearby</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> table.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em>No, it's mine, go away!”</em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Sam turned in his direction with a bewildered expression, but it didn't take him more than a second to understand that his brother-in-law was only carrying on his own absurd comedy. It was evident that Dean had just attempted the first serious lunge against his Long Island, with the result that Cas had abandoned the safe haven of his chest to curl up in defense of his glass. Now Dean was staring at the ceiling, probably in an attempt to remain calm in front of the regressed to childhood version of his husband.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>Cas, we both know how i</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>t will</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> end if you keep drinking,” he decided to threaten him finally, even if subtly and for good. “Do I really have to remind you of the rum and C</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>oke</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> n</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ight</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>?”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Cas groaned painfully, </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>for Dean had </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>aimed at</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> the right spot.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>No, </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>not </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>the rum and C</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>oke night</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>, it’</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>s gross.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Sam snorted, amused. He remembered that party </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>too. Fortunately, </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>they had been</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> just them and a bunch of</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> close friends. It had started with an unworthy amount of quality beers, had degenerated when Cas had decided to inaugurate a fine bottle of rum and had ended with Dean dragging his boyfriend to bed and Sam cleaning the living room after Cas had revisited his – few – alcoholic college adventures, complete with an emergency bucket where to vomit. It was understandable that the one related to that night</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> was not among his best memories.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>W</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ell, I am the one</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> who h</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>eld</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> the bucket and kept </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>his hand on </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>your forehead,” Dean p</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ushed</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>, returning to t</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>rying</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> to reach h</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>is husband’s</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> cocktail. “C</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ome on, give it to me.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>But there was nothing</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> like alcohol to bring the stubborn roots of Castiel's soul </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>up</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> to the surface.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>Nnnnno,” he resisted, clinging to the glass until his knuckles g</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ot white</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>.</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Only then did someone clear his throat and Sam realized that the man</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> who had offered him a drink had been observing</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> the whole scene and now boasted a smile </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>which was</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> halfway between amused</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> and astonished.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em>If it's a bad time...”</em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>"No, no," Sam hastened to block him, smiling uncertainly. “He always does this when he's drunk, nothing to worry about. I am...”</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>Sam, </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>would you mind giving me </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>a hand here?”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Sam, who had finally stood up in the clumsy attempt to introduce himself, turned back to his brother, ready to bite him for the worst</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> timing </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>ever. But as soon as he saw how little possibilities of success</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> Dean had of taking his</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> husband out of there without his cooperation, the shoulders of the youngest Winchester collapsed and a sigh emptied his chest.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em>Hey, Cas,” he called then, arming himself with all the playful conviction of the parent of a three-year-old boy at bath time. As soon as he had Castiel's attention, he dropped the bomb: “Haven’t you taken a look at the hive in the parking lot yet? It’s awesome.”</em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>As expected, his brother-in-law's blue irises began to shine.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>A beehive?” he repeated, his face illuminated by a pleasant amazement. Then he turned to h</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>is</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> husband with a look of lukewarm accusation: “</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>T</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>here’</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>s</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> a beehive in the parking lot and you d</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>idn’t tell</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> me?”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>This time Dean smiled sincerely, getting rid of all the nervousness of a moment before.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>I wanted it to be your midnight surprise, Cinderella, but apparently the evening develop</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ed</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> quickly.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>This time, when his husband pushed the drink out from under his nose and helped him to his feet, Castiel collaborated with all the docility of an altar boy.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>"Cinderella," he chanted, willingly accepting the arm with which Dean surrounded his waist. “How</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> sweet.”</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Dean, behind him, mimicked a heartfelt "thank you" with his lips in his brother’s direction. Sam gave him a pitying but pleased wink: Dean was so </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>busy with</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> Cas that he had hardly noticed the man whom a few minutes earlier he had called </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>a </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>loser, </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>not to mention a </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>creepy coward.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>"Come on, let's go," Dean said, putting Cas's backpack</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> on his shoulder after placing a fifty-dollar bill on the table for </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>the </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>drinks. Then he concentrated on helping his</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> husband walking</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> without losing his balance, one step at a time. “Come on, cowboy, there’s a</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> bed waiting for us. </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>We’ll need</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> to postpone my</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> lecture about</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> how one needs to be</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> responsible when</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>consuming</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> alcohol until tomorrow, what do you think?”</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>"I think that</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> sometimes you talk</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> just like a Novak," Castiel grunted back.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em>I married you two years ago, after all. Something will have stuck to me at some point.”</em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Sam returned his</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> brother's silent greeting with an indulgent smile, pretending not to see the warning glance that Dean gave to the new party guest who was</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> waiting next to Sam. The latter followed the couple with his</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> eyes until their exchange of jokes was lost among</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> the voices of the crowd.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>I know that we’</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>re leaving only</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> because </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>this way </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>Sam can make out in peace.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>Sam is a </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>big boy</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>, he can choose how to spend his Saturday n</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ight”</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>.</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><em>Don’t act to standoffish. I know the truth.”</em></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><em>Oh, do you? That’s great.”</em></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>Yes. The truth is that he will always be your little brother to you. You m</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ust not</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> lie to me, Dean.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>That querulous tone </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>again. Dean's pained sigh was heard up to the bar counter.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>I </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>rather </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>must no longer allow you to get close to alcohol in your life.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Seconds later they were out the door and it was Sam's turn to breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, he turned to his charming admirer, as Cas had called him, enjoying the luxury of being able to forget about Dean's instinct for protection. Somehow he knew that the blue of those eyes would </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>have </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>soon dragged</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> him into a completely different conversation. Blessed be the</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> damned Drinking Violet.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>Please, excuse him,” he decided to say after a few seconds of embarrassment, raising an arm to scratch his neck. “</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>When he’s s</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ober, my brother-in-law is a very p</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>leasant</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> person. The most e</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ven-tempered</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> you could meet.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>The other's lips twitched in an assault smile.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>I</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>t’s</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> always l</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ike this</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> with g</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>oody-goodies</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>, right?”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Sam was almost certain he had seen his eyes flicker towards his tense biceps before he saw them return to his own. It was his turn to moisten his lips as he tried to silence the primordial instincts that were pumping blood into his veins at full speed.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em>Well, nice to meet you...”</em></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><em>Luc,” the other man said, showing his teeth in a feral smile.</em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>"Luc," Sam nodded, repeating it to taste the sound of that name on his tongue. “I am...”</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>Sam,” the m</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>an</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> interrupted, putting his hands in his pockets. “I heard.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>Sam knew he should </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>have </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>stopped</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> staring at him. </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>He had known him for two minutes, he was running</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> the risk of appearing rude. Besides, even Luc</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> hadn't taken his eyes off him for a moment, had he? This meant that maybe he wasn’t being too impolite. Hungry, ravenous, </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>yes, </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>that was too obvious. But no more than Luc, right? As long as </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>there were </em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>two of them playing that game, it was fine.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>"I suppose I need</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em> to thank you for that drink," Sam said in what seemed like a small voice.</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><em>Don’</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>t</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>. Not yet,” Luc corrected him, biting his lip intentional</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ly</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>. “It was j</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>ust</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em> the first </em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>one</em></span></span></span><span><span><span><em>.”</em></span></span></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Sam shook himself </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>out of that memory </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>with a shiver and never knew if it was </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>because of </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>pleasure or terror. He was pretty sure someone</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> had spoken, but only a muffled, distant sound had reached his ears, no word </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>with any </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>meaning had succeeded in breaking down the wall of his memories.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>The boy raised his head and looked at Charlie Bradbury's face – she</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> had introduced herself</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> as</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> such, despite the plaque on the door announcing a different name – softening in a simple smile, barely there, not at all mocking. Reflecting </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>on her</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> reaction, Sam realized that he must </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>have </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>appeared</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> dazed, as if he had just woken </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>up </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>with a startle</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> in the middle of the night.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"Sam," the psychotherapist said, making it sound like a question she had already repeated many times.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Sam wondered how long </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>she had been trying</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> to draw his attention, </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>to </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>tear him</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> from his memories, and </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>he </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>nervously squeezed the fabric of his pants at knee level.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>I'm sorry. I z</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>oned out for a second.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>She had been the one to</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> insist that there was no need for</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> formalism between them, since they were almost the same age.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>"No problem," she smiled sincerely. “So, would you like to tell me a little bit about yourself, to start?”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Sam swallowed, feeling a weight build up </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>in</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> his stomach. It was Thursday, December 10th,</span>
        </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> it was only his</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> first </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>psychotherapy </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>session and he was already experiencing the irrepressible instinct to escape from the </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>unbearably soft</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> sofa on which he had </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>sat down</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> five minutes earlier.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span><br/>
</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love writing flashbacks.<br/>Please, let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Worth it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That Saturday, December 12th, had been designated for weeks on the family calendar as "Decoration Day". This was enough to make it official, which meant that nothing could have stopped the Novak-Winchesters from facing Christmas preparations.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>It didn't matter that Sam was turning chocolates into Christmas tree decorations while</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> mulling over his first session with Charlie and labeling it as a huge waste of time; nor was Dean's black mood – albeit </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>it was</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> rapidly healing, thanks to a caring husband. </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>The day before a restrictive order had been delivered </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>to him</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> thanks to the punch </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>he had landed </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>on Luc Benson’s jaw</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> the previous week.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>All this was insignificant. It was almost Christmas, wasn't it? This meant that Dean was in charge of transporting the spruce they had</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> bought at</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> the market in the </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>city </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>center, finding a place in the living room and clearing the floor of needles. Meanwhile Cas had started to take care of the lights, trying to forget that that morning he had </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>been</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> to 66 Fairview Avenue to fill a couple of suitcases with Sam's essential belongings and take them away. He had returned unscathed and that was enough for him </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>to celebrate.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Upon his return, Sam had asked him if he had found Luc in the house. Castiel had granted him the great</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> effort to hide the chills that caught him at the hearing Lucifer Benson’s name.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“If he was there, he didn't show up,” he replied with a polite smile.</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Luckily his</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> husband had changed</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> the subject promptly, irritated.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>After that they had </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>had</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> lunch in silence, listening to the radio. Cas could not help but notice how Dean had </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>relaxed </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>only when Sam had started talking again to comment the local news. The textile industry was in crisis, but at least the Winchester brothers were keeping</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> their</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> precarious balance </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>alive.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Now, after many</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> logistical interventions in the logic of Christmas, five o'clock had arrived. Sam had already prepared a whole bowl of wrapped chocolate ornaments when Cas's humming</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> stopped being the only sound beyond the melodies that were playing</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> on the radio.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>Dean?” the </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>youngest </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>Winchester c</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>alled</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>The thirty-year-old, too busy arranging the rigid base that would hold the Christmas tree still, replied without turning to the dining table.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>Ye</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ah</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>? W</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>hat?</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>He probably believed that his brother had finished the first box of chocolates and wanted to ask him where to find another one – or the tree would have been found</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> naked after less than a week. He certainly didn't expect the question Sam threw there as if it was</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>nothing important.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Haven’t you thought any more about the idea of having children?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Lost in </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>his </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>thoughts, Sam noticed</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> the silence that had dropped suddenly with a couple of seconds of delay and only then did he look up from the table he was working on. Cas had stopped humming and Dean had given up on the lower branches of the tree. Both were staring at the youngest member of the family with an expression that, although indecipherable, still managed to make</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> him </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>feel ashamed.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"I’m sorry, I didn't mean to be inappropriate," he regretted, bowing his head and grasping the fingers of his left hand with his right to twist them nervously. “It's </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>only </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>that, when you decided to move here, Dean told me it was because you were thinking of </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>starting a</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> family. That was two years ago</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> and I couldn't help wondering why...”</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>How come you still d</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>o</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>n't have a </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>little kid</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> to spoil y</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>et</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>?” Cas </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>finished </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>for him, managing to reassure him with a smile that d</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>idn’t look offended at all</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>. “There is no need to apologize. Y</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ours</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> is legitimate curiosity.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>He had come down the ladder on which he had climbed to hang the strings of lights. Once Sam looked up, Cas went to put his own eyes on her husband, as if to encourage him not to keep anything inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"You know, Sammy," Dean murmured after a few seconds, hesitating. “It's something that can take</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> a long </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>amount of</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> time.”</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Sam watched his brother until it was clear to him that, in the midst of the stormy sea that his emotions had sparked at the youngest's question, there was also a drop of pain. So</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> he retreated into a new wave of unease, damning himself for even thinking of mentioning that matter.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>O</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>h. I s</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ee</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>He would have stood there reproaching himself silently and with his head down, if Cas's amused tone hadn't juggled between his embarrassment and Dean's.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Look, you can tell him if you want.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Eyes that rose again, feeling that he had received permission. Cas was almost kissing Dean with his gentle gaze, while the eldest</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> Winchester seemed not to understand where his</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> husband wanted to go with that.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"We had decided we would wait," he said, opposing a</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> timid resistance.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I know, but it's only a couple of weeks apart. And it's Sam we're talking about,” Cas insisted placidly, directing a smile at his brother-in-law. “I would say that he deserves everything we can give him.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>The twenty-six-year-old felt a knot melt inside him and let that new emotion warm him.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>Well, now you </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>definitely </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>have to tell me something,” he said, a</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>llowing</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> a smile t</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>o show on his face</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>The point is that,” Dean sighed, gratefully welcoming the arm that h</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>is</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> husband put around his waist and the sweet kiss that </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>he </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>pressed on his temple so that he knew he was supporting him, “actually, the family is about to grow. The p</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>lan</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> was to s</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>hare</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> the news w</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ith</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> everyone on Christmas E</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ve</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>, but apparently someone is too excited to keep their word.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Cas replied to his accusatory gaze by nudging</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> him playfully.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>Y</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ou’re one to t</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>alk. As if </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>you didn’t have </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>all of Santa's elves hopping inside.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span>Guys,” Sam intervened, now too shaken not to interrupt their exchange of jokes. “Are you... are you trying to tell me I'm going to be an uncle?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>The toothy smile that spread over Castiel's face and the grimace with which Dean tried to hold back the emotion were more than </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>good </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>enough answers to shake off any remaining doubts from Sam. Left speechless, the young man stood up making his chair legs screech on the floor and rushed to hug</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> his brother and Cas, squeezing them with one arm each. They hugged him back</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> gratefully and stood there, motionless and silent, until that blazing sensation of victory became sustainable even in solitude. It took almost a whole minute.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he took a step back, Sam was almost certain he heard Dean sniffle, but he was too excited by the news to point out that moment of weakness.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>H</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ow? W</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ho…?” he asked, stumbling in </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>his </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>words </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>and</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> questioning both in turn.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>It was Cas who spoke, because his husband was rubbing his eyes in a very manly attempt not to admit his tears.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>A few months ago, </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>our</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> social worker put us in touch with this girl, Agnes. She is twenty-one and cannot and does not want to keep the b</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>aby</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>, but w</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ants</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> to make sure </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>he or she</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> g</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ets to stay with</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> a suitable family. And we, well, I suppose we can say that s</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>he</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> liked </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>us,”</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> he added shrugging.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>Actually, she's obviously obsessed with gay couples. But we </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>2</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>on't complain,” Dean said, clearing his v</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>oice</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Sam laughed freely. He hadn't done it for so long that that pleasure, that momentary lightness got</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> him </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>while he felt completely </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>unprepared </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>for it. He had never felt so proud of his brother, nor so immensely happy for him and Cas.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>When?” he asked, no longer worrying about curbing his curiosity.</span></p>
<p>“<span>In April.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"Oh my God," Sam said, still smiling as he put a hand on</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> his mouth. “It's </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>just </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>around the corner.”</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Yes, it is,” Cas admitted, exchanging a happy and loving look with Dean.</span></p>
<p>“<span>God, I cannot believe it. I'm so... I’m just so happy for you, guys.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"Be happy for yourself too," his brother </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>said, patting him on the back. He had finally recovered from the </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>emotional </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>moment and was now making fun of him again with all his </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>rashness. “You will be our</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> most wanted</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> babysitter, I </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>might as well</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> tell you right away.”</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam chuckled again, still shaking his head in disbelief.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Doesn't Mom know?”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>No,” Dean confirmed, glancing at his partner's back as Castiel returned to his folding ladder. Both he and Cas were still worried about h</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ow</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> the Novak</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>s</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> would react to the news, but it wasn't a burden that Sam had to bear. So D</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ean</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> refrained from mentioning it, deciding to enjoy his brother's pure enthusiasm. “You are the </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>one and</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> only.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>"Holy shit," Sam murmured as he returned to his chair. “It's amazing, Dean. I mean...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"You really don’t need to</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> tell me," the oldest</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> nodded, but his smile would have seemed </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>already </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>spoiled to an alert</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> eye.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would have loved to continue to see his brother so happy, back to being himself, but his words had brought up a topic that he could not afford to send back into the closet. It was with immense regret that Dean set about troubling Sam's fragile mood again.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>Listen, about M</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>om,”</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> he announced, trying to remain stoic in front of the alarm that immediately spread in the other </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>boy</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>'s eyes. “</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>She called me</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> yesterday. I had to tell her that you moved here temporarily.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Sam seemed to freeze, standing behind the chair </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>with</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> his fingers clawed </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>on the top of its wooden </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>back. While preventing himself from looking down at his frightened and disappointed expression, Dean felt like the worst brother in the whole</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> universe.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Almost three years had passed since the day Mary Winchester </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>had </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>decided to move to Florida. Her husband's death had been such a heavy blow that she</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> had needed to leave everything behind for some time. For months, all her sons</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> had known about her was that she had started working for some local magazines, enjoying the sun, and had finally found time to rearrange the manuscript she had kept in the nightstand since Sam and Dean were attending</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> elementary school. Then, slowly, the visits </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>had </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>resumed and the calls had become</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> more frequent. Mary Winchester's heart had healed in her new home in Florida, but it was still that of a mother full of affection and pride for her children.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You promised me you wouldn't tell her," Sam hissed in a betrayed voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"I </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>didn’t tell</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> her any details," Dean assured him slowly, aware of the way Cas was looking at him to try</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> to help. “But I had to tell her that you're here, because she planned to use the guest room on</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> Christmas </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Eve. </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>She needed a little notice to book a hotel </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>on time, don't you think?”</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Sam took a few seconds to think about it, then narrowed</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> his eyelids threateningly.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>What did you tell her exactly?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>There was no way imitating</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> a professor at school wouldn’t</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> make Dean feel under pressure.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>That you and your boyfriend t</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>ook some time off</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> and that therefore you a</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>re going to</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> stay with me and Cas for a </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>little </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>while,” the thirty-year-old </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>replied</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>, swallowing.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span>What else did you tell her?” Sam persevered.</span></p>
<p>“<span>Nothing at all!”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>W</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>hat about Mom?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>What about h</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>er</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>What did s</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>he</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> read between the lines?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>What the fuck, Sam, how could I </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>possibly </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>know?” Dean snapped, spreading his arms impatiently. “</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>Sh</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>e just told me that the</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>re’</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>s no problem and that </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>s</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>he’ll book a room in a bed &amp; breakfast.”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>But Sam had never been stupid or inattentive. He had learned to read and interpret his brother's expressions at the age of four, when Dean was already able to swindle a good number of adults.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"You're not telling me everything," he accused him in a low voice, barely enough to cover Chris Martin’s voice, </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>which</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> was</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> singing </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Christmas Lights</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> in the background.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Dean opened his mouth to reply, but ended up biting his lip to restrain himself. He knew that was what Cas would have told</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> him to do: don't feed the discussion, don't make it worse. But how could he pretend to be calm, when the echo of the phone call he had with his mother was still there, filling</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> his heart with a strange mixture of anguish and hope?</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>"You're hiding something from me," Mary Winchester's voice had said through Dean's smartphone.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Her</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> eldest son had rolled his eyes, cursing himself for not becoming</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> a smart enough actor to deceive the woman who had brought him into the world.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>Mom…”</em></span></p>
<p>“<span><em>I still have my sixth sense, okay? And before you ask me, Dean Winchester, the answer is yes: it works on the phone too.”</em></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>It’s</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> Sammy, </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>M</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>om,” Dean had capitulated, exhausted and s</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ilently complaining about</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> a week that seemed to never run out of cartridges to shoot at him. “Let's say it's not a good time for him. To be honest, I've never seen h</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>im</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> like this.”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>A moment of silence. Dean had imagined his mother</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> in the act of looking for a chair and holding on to her cup of tea. Then came that firm tone that never had anything to envy to John Winchester's authority, not when it came to the well-being of </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>her</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> children.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>Tell me everything.”</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>"I can't," Dean had admitted with a pang in his chest. “It would make</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> him </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>crazy mad. And we can't afford it right now. I can't allow him to get away from me, it would only end up with</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> him getting hurt again.”</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Another pause, longer this time. His mother had always carefully pondered her words.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>"Then tell me what you can," she mediated in the end, imposing the compromise rather than proposing it. “I promise not to freak out, but you have to tell me what's going on, Dean.”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a short but high-pitched sound from Sam's jeans pocket that brought Dean back to the present moment. Sam was still accusing him with the same look he had sported when he was seven years old, when Dean had stolen the sugary booty of a Halloween night, while Cas was watching them both on the edge of the battlefield, perhaps wondering how to quell the fight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But suddenly Dean felt he no longer needed a help.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"You aren’t</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> either," he said, poisonous. “What I just heard is the ringtone you set for his messages, isn't it?”</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>He wouldn't have said Sam’s</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>boyfriend</span></em>'s name. He would </span>
      </span>
    
  
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>have </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>ended</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> up calling him Lucifer and Sam wouldn't have liked that. Not that his younger brother needed anything other than that insinuation to swell anger.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>So w</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>hat? </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>I</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>s he even forbidden to</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span> send me a message </span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>now</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>?”</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Dean would have liked to answer him with a dry "Yes".</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Yes, because there is a restrictive order that forbids</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> it. Yes, because clearly you are not able to understand how dangerous he</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> is. Yes, because he tore your heart, body and reason </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>apart, he destroyed your</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> life. Yes, because </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>fuck, </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>I </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>say so, Sam.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>But he held back the impulse. He took a deep breath and looked for less acrimonious words.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I've been hearing it all afternoon.”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span><span>S</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>o what</span></span></span></span><span><span><span><span>?” Sam instigated him again, his fists clenched at his sides.</span></span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Dean was about to explode. Why did he have to be the only one trying to be reasonable? Then his</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> eyes met Cas's and </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Dean saw </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>his</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> husband shake</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> his head slowly. Right, left, right again. With wide eyes, full of fear. And Dean realized that he wasn’t</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> solving </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>anything. </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>On the contrary, he was only risking Sam taking the suitcases that had just made it to</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> the guest room and calling the first </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>taxi </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>available.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean would never get used to that sense of helplessness. But for the moment, the only way to keep Sam with him was to subject himself to it and luckily Castiel was there to remind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>"Nothing, Sam," the e
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> Winchester gave up</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> with a sigh. “Just... be careful, okay?”</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Sam said nothing, he just kept returning his </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>brother’s</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> grief-stricken gaze with the rancor</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> that had grown within him in the last few minutes. He was still trying to name those emotions when Cas brought him back down to </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>earth.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Sam, could you please give me a hand up here? You are the only one tall enough to reach that corner. Here, yes, hook this piece of wire up there, please. Stretch it a little more... that’s just perfect, thanks.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>The </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>boy</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> obeyed silently, keeping</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> his back turned towards</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> his older brother all the time.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>The messages had started the day before and Sam had not been able to hide them: the first had arrived during</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> the evening, at dinner time, and, from the look that Dean had </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>given to</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> his </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>guilty smartphone, Sam had understood that he had recognized the sender – then there was no need for the eldest</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> to confess that he had memorized every ringtone with which Sam had allowed himself to personalize his favorite contacts.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Sam had shown almost supernatural willpower, refusing to unlock the screen until he </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>had</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> landed on his</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> bed </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>like an avid teenager. Once under the covers, however, he had succumbed to the greed that now revolved around Luc's </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Whatsapp chat. He had found a single message there, but it had been enough to make the boy's heart explode without any dignity.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>From: Luc</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Did you get my roses?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>And Sam had thought of the flowers </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>he had </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>found in his office locker. </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>Starting from the previous Monday, there had been one a day, a red rose ready to welcome him at the end of each shift. More messages</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> followed that first one, though Sam had to wait until the next day.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>It was quite difficult to get them</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> there.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>But it was worth it.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>I lost my mind the other night, Sam. Those roses are my penance.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>But you know why that happened. You know what makes me lose my mind.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>I love you, Sammy, you have no idea how much I love you.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Even if it takes twenty years of roses, I will make you understand how </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>crazy </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>you drive me.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>That day, Saturday, there had been so many messages that Dean had almost been right to complain. Anyway, Sam never answered. He kept repeating to himself that no matter how fast his heart beat at the sight of those words Luc </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>had typed, he was resisting not to disappoint Dean, to spare him some of the apprehension that Cas had summed up so well.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>In reality, however, he felt at fault</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> with everyone, but especially towards Luc, as if not replying to his messages</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> was </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>like </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>playing hard to get</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> with him. As if Sam</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> were pulling a rope </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>which was </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>too valuable for him to run the risk of breaking it </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>once and for all. If he stopped </span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>to</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> think about the possibility that</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> Luc could have got</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> tired of him, Sam felt his breath freeze in his lungs. But he hadn't replied</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> to those messages. Not yet.</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Half an hour later there was a moment during which Dean was busy cursing against a particularly protruding branch of the spruce and Cas had moved away for a moment to prepare some cups of hot chocolate for everyone. Sam was swift at pulling his cellphone out of his pocket to check the latest message. He read it with a lump in his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>It’ll be worth it. It's always worth it for you, Sam.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em><br/>
</em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It was taking me a lot of time to translate - and therefore publish - new chapters, so, also thanks to some of your encouraging comments, I decided I'll make shorter chapters in order to be a little bit faster. I hope you like this decision and, if you like this chapter, please let me know. Your words are what makes me find time to go on - faster. And take care, all of you shining souls :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The things I would do to you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    <em>- Drinking Violet, around midnight between 25<sup>th</sup> and 26<sup>th</sup> July 2009 -</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>So what was it?” Sam asked immediately after taking a seat on one of the high stools and i</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ndulging</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> in another sip of Sex </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>O</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>n </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>T</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>he </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>B</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>each.</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>He had taken</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> the cocktail </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>glass</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> before moving to the far end of the counter, where he had found a fairly intimate place to talk. Luc, who </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>was the one </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>proposing</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> that they got closer to</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> the </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>drink dispensers, gave him a confused look.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>What was it?” he repeated, perplexed.</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>"Yes," Sam nodded, nibbling the straw in the same smug manner sported by Luc a few seconds earlier, when the man</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> had </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>nonchalantly </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>revealed his intention to offer him more drinks. “What drove</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> you to offer me a drink while staying</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> in the dark and without even knowing what my name is?”</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Luc gave him a smile </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>that could have been </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>capable of stripping Sam</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> of his soul, let alone his new, fragile mischievous attitude. As Luc raised two fingers to </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>get</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> the nearest bartender’s attention, Sam shivered, feeling naked </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>all of a sudden. And in the best way </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>he had </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>ever experienced.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>After giving instructions for a Vodka Tonic, Luc immediately returned to his eager eyes.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>I like the dark. It allows me to observe without haste. It allowed me to observe you,” he considered, handing a ten dollar bill to the bartender in exchange for a glass of clear liquid, ice and lime </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>slices</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>. He took a sip and pulled his lips in appreciation before making a gesture with which he clearly meant </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>to point </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>everything </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>that involved</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> Sam. “Not that it took me more than twenty seconds to figure out I was s</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>crewed</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>, o</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>f course</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>.”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>As soon as he realized it was an appreciation in no uncertain terms, Sam barely shook his head in disbelief, feeling his lips tremble on the edge of the smile he had shown</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> before. Damn it, he had to stop blushing like a </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>third-grader.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>"You don't even know me one bit," he observed softly, studying the other’s face to catch even the slightest trace of sarcasm.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>But he found nothing ironic in the way the man</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> was returning his gaze.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>Which explains</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> the drink. I want to </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>get to </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>k</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>now</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> you,” Luc explained, bringing their two glasses together with a cheerful jingle. “I'm sure there are a</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>t least a</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> thousand m</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ore</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> reasons, o</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ther than</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> those eyes and that smile, to fall at your feet.”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span>And let’s say farewell</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>
        <span> to the promise not to behave like a schoolboy,</span>
      </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> Sam thought, burying his gaze on </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>the</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> fingers </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>he had </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>entwined on</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> his lap.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>I don't... I don't t</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>hink I have an</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> answer to this.”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>That sentence only accentuated the complacency painted on Luc's determined face.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>My God, look at yourself. Tell </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>me </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>the truth, you are o</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ne of those</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> who like pretend</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ing</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> to be delicate.”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Sam jerked his head up.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>What?”</em></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>A</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ren’t you</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>? I'm just saying you're adorable. You don't know </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>the things</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> I would do to you,” Luc grumbled after taking the last sip of a short-lived Vodka Tonic. Sam didn't even </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>have enough time to</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> react, though, </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>because Luc’s</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> hand was already rais</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ing</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>as a sign </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>of apology, although t</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>he man</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> didn't l</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ook</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> uncomfortable at all. “Forgive me. Too much alcohol. I shouldn't have taken this, too,” he added, pointing to the now empty glass with a look that was only vaguely contrite. “</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>B</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ut I was nervous after offering you that drink.”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>"Not a problem," Sam assured him, basking in the flips of</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> his stomach.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Luc smiled again. He was not good at masking his satisfaction, Sam noted, and it was evident how congenial the situation turned out to be to him.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>"However, I was really hoping you would accept it," he confided, observing the greed with which Sam was now attacking his Sex On The Beach.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>The boy noticed it too and left the straw alone, licking his lips. Either way, he had almost reached the bottom of the glass.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>I could never have refused it, it's one of my favorites. And it was superb. Is there anything else you hoped for?”</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>He didn't want him to stop talking. </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>There was</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> something in the intonation of Luc’s</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> voice that promised him one night – or maybe more?</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> – as</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> he hadn't had</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> in many months, and that was enough for Sam's hopes to hit the ceiling. And the answer is yes, he was too busy to </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>get</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> the desperation inherent in his behavior.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>"Actually, there is," Luc admitted, crossing his arms on the counter before leaning conspiratorially towards him. “I was hoping neither of those two was your boyfriend.”</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Sam laughed.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>You got lucky. The one who wasn’tt my brother-in-law was my brother.”</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>He skipped the part where he explained that Cas and Dean were happily married. There was no need for so much useless chatter. Not on that occasion, not on his part.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>"Oh," Luc pondered with a raised eyebrow. “Well, that explains the murderous look he gave me. Possessive guy?”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>Protective. Too much, if you ask me,” Sam pointed out with a grimace.</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Luc looked amused. Evidently he had never had to endure older brothers with a </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>delirium </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>of omnipotence.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>Does he think you can’t choose an appropriate company?”</em></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>The companies I chose </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>in the past</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> have rarely been appropriate, according to </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>Hi</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>s </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>M</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ajesty.”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><em>Oh, is that so serious?”</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Sam shrugged, finishing his cocktail with one last sip.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>H</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>e has some qualities too.”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>I’ll take your</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> word </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>for it</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>," Luc sneered, and Sam was relieved that the "Dean" argument had been put aside </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>easily and fast</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>. What he didn't expect was to see </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>the other man</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> get to his feet and nod towards the exit: “</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>How would you like a walk</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>? I need </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>a cigarette</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>.”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><em>Oh, sure.”</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>He didn’t</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> think they would leave so soon, but as soon as they were out of the club he found that the closed environment of the pub had begun to </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>make</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> him </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>feel oppressed</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> too. The air outside was not exactly cool, since Sam</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> felt good in </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>his </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>short-sleeved shirt</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>, but at least the darkness made the hot summer weather more tolerable.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>You want one?” Luc asked after a few steps, offering him the pack of cigarettes while he put one in his mouth.</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Sam raised his hand politely.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>No, thanks. I don’t smoke.</em></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>And doesn't it bother you w</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>hen</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> someone does it a</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>round you</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>?” Luc inquired, peering at him as he fished a lighter from his pocket and snapped it with his hands gathered around the end of the cigarette.</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Once again, Sam shrugged.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>I'm quite used to it.”</em></span></p>
<p>“<span><em>Were any of your ex-boyfriends smokers?”</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>They had begun to walk unhurriedly along the sidewalk, side by side. A moment later, Sam found himself wrapped in the first cloud of smoke Luc </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>exhaled</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> and decided that there was no need to tell him about the two packs of cigarettes a day that John Winchester had been consuming starting from his</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> twenties and until the day of his death, ignoring the advice of doctors after he miraculously survived his</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> first heart attack. Talking about his father would only make</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> the atmosphere </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>freeze</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> and Sam had no intention of </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>being guilty of such a crime.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>Y</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>es, </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>actually,”</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> he found himself confirming, thinking of the j</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>oints</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> for which Tristan, his first real boy</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>friend</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> in college, had developed a cheerful addiction.</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>"Excellent," Luc commented shrewdly. “Then I have a chance you won't reject me, when I kiss you.”</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Something in Sam told him that at that point he should have felt unquiet, or at least demonstrate a little more caution. That sentence, pronounced just over half an hour after their very first exchange of glances, hid a predatory instinct that perhaps, during</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> other periods</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> of his life, the boy would have detected and rejected quickly, without looking back. But not that time. </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Because that night </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Sam was twenty-six, </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>happened to have </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>a decent amount of alcohol in his blood</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> and hadn't slept with anyone since February – not to mention that his last </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>real </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>relationship had ended</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> three years earlier. And Luc was there. Charming, charismatic, accommodating, there for him. A hunter looking for </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>a </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>prey, yes, maybe he was, but Sam was enjoying that idea </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>too, he was enjoying it more than he would have admitted. The more he thought about it, the more sultry that summer night </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>felt, under his </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>light </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>cotton shirt.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>That was how</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> he found himself letting those</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> words slide out </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>of his mouth.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>You could check it out right away. </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>You know, just so we can get it over with quickly.”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Luc stopped and turned to him, his hand holding</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> the cigarette at his</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> side and his</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> amazement immediately turned </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>into a grin.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>"I could," he admitted with an intrigued smile.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>In an instant he pushed Sam</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> against the wall. </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>It</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> didn't hurt him, the distance was too short, but Sam still jumped at the impact of his back against the physical obstacle behind him. Then he held his breath. Luc's hand pressed against his chest, the halo of </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>his </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>blond hair was illuminated by the light of a street lamp and the resolute expression on his face was enough to dissolve</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> even the last of Sam’s</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> doubts.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>Are</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> you experienc</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ing</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> any nicotine </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>related</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> discomfort?” Luc breathed on his mouth, a</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>llowing</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> even the last remnants of smoke </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>to dissipate</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> in the air.</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Sam inhaled the harsh smell of tobacco greedily, then closed his eyes and shook his head quickly.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>No?” Luc teased him, and the feeling of being subjected to his grip, at the mercy of the power he had taken, made Sam feel one step away from </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>a</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> total loss of control. “What if I do t</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>his</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>, sugar?”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Sam didn't open his eyes, but he didn't regret it. Luc's lips met his with force, chasing them frantically from the first instant. Sam didn’t give him time to beg for it</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> and immersed himself in that kiss without bothering to hide the fact that it had been his desire from the beginning. </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>But he was not the first to use his tongue.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>The butterflies in the boy's stomach were giving way to a </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>significant </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>influx</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> of blood to his lower abdomen when Luc finally separated from him, leaving </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Sam</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> free to catch his breath.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>"My place</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> isn’t far," Luc gasped, with dilated</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> pupils and his lips running over Sam's again </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>to get</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> another short but voracious kiss. “You want</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> to come over?”</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>Hm-hm,” Sam nodded quickly, attracted again by the warmth of those lips.</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>He was about to let himself go completely, without thoughts. </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>He was about to moan in ways </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>which are</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> unsuitable for a public place, </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>he was about to forget a part of himself, dragged </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>away </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>as he was by his</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> attraction for that stranger. Then that little reflection stung him and some clarity finally made its way back to his mind. A stranger. The one</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> with whom he was losing decency in the middle of the street </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>was a complete stranger.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>No, wait,” he reluctantly interrupted L</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>uc</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>, moving him away from himself just enough to be able to articulate the words.</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Luc took a small step back, leaving him more space.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>Is something wrong?”</em></span></p>
<p>“<span><em>No, no, far from it. It's just that I...” Sam bit his lips, then sighed and surrendered to the truth: “I’m not made that way.”</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>The bewilderment that made Luc's brow furrow was painful to see, as expected. But his question was legitimate.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>What do you mean?”</em></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>I... I don't do th</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>is kind of</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> things. </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>Not on a regular basis,</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>” Sam tried to explain himself, without being able to avoid that </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>a</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> sudden anxiety and shame made him blush under the light of the lamppost. "I don't meet s</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>omeone</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> in a bar </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>just </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>to h</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ook up</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>with them </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>less than a</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>n hour</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> later, it's not like me," he continued quickly to get everything out before Luc c</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>ould get</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span> upset and l</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>eave</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>without an explanation</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>. “I like you, I really like you, but... I'm sorry, but this, at this pace, is not for me. I guess I'm a little old-fashioned. </span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>Yeah, maybe you could call me that. I</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>...”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><em><span>Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, Flash,” Luc held back, chuckling. “Look, it's okay. I can d</span></em></span></span><span><span><em><span>eal with that.”</span></em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>That </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>certainly</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> managed to silence Sam for a few seconds. When he realized what Luc was saying – Luc, who had not fled </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>yet and, on the contrary, was looking at him as if his being unsuitable for social life cheered him </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>up –, the </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>boy</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> parted his lips in amazement.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>You mean... are you serious?”</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Usually, when Sam told</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> to </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>interested</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> boys that casual relationships weren't </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>his thing, they suddenly remembered they had</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>something to get done urgently</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> somewhere else. At his age, there were many </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>people </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>who were looking for one night stands,</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> so the discomfort that Sam felt at the idea of getting</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> in something like that</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> made him quite a rare animal. Like a light on the </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>ocean </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>floor, as Mary Winchester would have said. But Luc looked different. Luc was giving him a chance. Maybe he was a light on the ocean </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>floor too.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>Surely Sam felt dazzled and dazed when the other </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>man </span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span>brought a hand to his face to caress his cheek with his thumb and offer</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>
        <span> him a smile that took his breath away.</span>
      </em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>I have the vague impression that it is worth waiting for you, sweetie.”</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em><br/>
</em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Posting shorter chapters is working, I guess. Or maybe I just couldn't wait to give you this chapter. As I have already said, I love flashbacks. Please, let me know what you think about this! The comments left to the last chapter were so appreciated *-*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. You haven't seen anything yet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>- </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>26</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <sup>
    <span>
      <span>
        <em>th</em>
      </span>
    </span>
  </sup>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> July 2009, Sam’s place</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> -</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>In fact, there was hardly any waiting.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Later in time, when it would have been clear that what had started as a carefree quickie had turned into a real relationship, Sam would have agreed to say that Luc did not like waiting. Never. Certainly not to see his wishes fulfilled, and Sam had become one of his</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> most sinful </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>wishes </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>as soon as he had the impudence to enter his eyeline.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Anyway, we were talking about the night</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> that both of them should have spent alone, after going back to</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> their respective homes. </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Right.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Given that even Sam's solid moral principles found themselves creaking under Luc’s</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> skillful moves – </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Luc, who knew how to push without giving the impression of forcing the mechanisms of the game –, the two came to a compromise. Or perhaps it would be better to say that the circumstances provided them with the perfect excuse to take back all the good monastic intentions </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>they had</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> expressed a few meters from the entrance of the Drinking Violet, down to the last sweet word.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>That is to say that, </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>talking about this and that, Luc learned</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> that Sam's place</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> was even closer than his and insisted on walking</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> him home. Once at the door, Sam realized that he did not feel particularly uncomfortable with</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> the idea of letting that man come in</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> – especially since his neighbor was on vacation and therefore could not have asked embarrassing questions the following morning.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Sam hesitated a second too long on the entrance step, while he removed the key from the patch of the door </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>which he had </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>already opened. For an instant, for some reason, his father’s memory</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> came to </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>his</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> mind, but he forgot about it when Luc put a hand on his arm, turned him over and kissed the</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> lip that the boy</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> had been</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> biting</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> nervously.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>Would you like... do you want to come in?” Sam asked, deeply inhaling the cigarette aroma that still pervaded Luc's mouth.</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>There was no answer. Not in </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>the form of </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>words. Going back</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> to take possession of his lips, Luc followed him into the house. From the moment the door slammed, closing them between those four walls, Sam stopped paying attention to anything</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> not coming from Luc. He </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>accidentally pushed</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> the </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>kitchen </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>table </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>with his thigh, dropped something on the ground and caught his</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> foot against an edge </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>of the wall</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> as he guided him blindly, in the dark, towards the bedroom, all without stopping chasing</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> the kisses and the breaths</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> of the other boy with his own.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>After what looked like</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> centuries, the back of Sam's knees met a soft surface and the boy</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> let himself be thrown onto the mattress by Luc's hasty manners. Then, finally with his eyes open, Sam</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> watched </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Luc </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>take off his leather jacket and the t-shirt below and let the faint glow of the moon that filtered through the window slide over him. The sight cut his breath and obscured his</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> mind</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>, but never as much as the voracious glance with which Luc wrapped him immediately after getting rid of the excess</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> fabric.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>"Take your clothes off," the blond </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>growled, making it</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> sound like a warning.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Sam obeyed instantly, shuddering at that order. He had just managed to get rid of his </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>t-shirt when Luc came down on him like an eagle with a</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> prey, anchoring his wrists above his head before descending with his mouth from his lips to the line of his</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> shoulders, then to his</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> neck and chest, licking and sucking greedily what he couldn't touch. When he finally moved both hands to Sam's hips, holding his pelvis steady as he rubbed it</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> against his own, Sam groaned in frustration and cursed the jeans that still constrained</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> him. Luc's pants didn't look as uncomfortable, not to judge from the grin that the man</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> above him was showing off.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em>Sam,” Luc sighed, running his fingers over the </em></span></span><span><span><em>boy’s </em></span></span><span><span><em>chest and abs, to get </em></span></span><span><span><em>then</em></span></span><span><span><em> to h</em></span></span><span><span><em>is</em></span></span><span><span><em> groin and make him hold his breath noisily. “Yo</em></span></span><span><span><em>u should be illegal</em></span></span><span><span><em>, d</em></span></span><span><span><em>arling</em></span></span><span><span><em>.”</em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>After that moment, the constriction of clothes became only a memory. With his mind clouded with excitement, Sam would </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>have only </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>remembered</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> the apogee of that night. Luc's fast</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> breathing, in sync</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> with Sam’s. The grip of his fingers on </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>his </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>hips, buttocks, thighs. The impetus of his kisses, the wet pops of their skins that met at the rhythm of their race towards a pleasure that seemed to arrive too early every time, while Luc made him</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> his in every position, in every possible way. The cold metal of the headboard of the bed to which Sam's sweaty fingers were clawed </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>for long </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>and which moaned with him at every lunge.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>It was a long, not at all sweet, lived up to the last oxygen particle night, and Sam never remembered the moment when both he and Luc gave it over to tiredness and fell asleep next to each other.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>When he woke up nine hours later, the boy took ten good seconds to understand why he was hearing the shower jet while he was still in bed. Then he lifted his head off the mattress a few inches and looked around through half-closed eyelids.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>The room was a mess: groping in the dark the previous night, he and Luc had ended up dropping books, knick-knacks and clothes to the ground – even those they hadn't gotten rid of at the time. The bed, then, was so unmade that blankets and pillows were laying</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> on the floor and the sheets were also about to give in to the constraints of gravity, so </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>much they were</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> knotted.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Sam fell back as soon as the idea of fixing that touched his brain, and he crouched down prone again, enjoying the memories of the past night. He was in no hurry to get up. He had just discovered that the sound of the shower jet breaking on Luc's body, on the shoulders he had clung to and on the arms that had supported him, was his new favorite sound.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>His lips had just curled into a smug smile at the thought of having slept – not only </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>having </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>had </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>some </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>first-class sex, but also having slept all night </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>long –</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> with him, when the trill </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>of a cellphone </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>came </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>from </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>somewhere on the floor. Having recognized the guitar chord </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>he had </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>dedicated to Dean's messages, Sam made a disgruntled moan, but then he dragged his head over the edge of the mattress and started looking for the phone. His brother's congenital anxiety was already quite annoying, making him wait for a response after an evening like the previous one would have been just like</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> kicking his own ass for Sam.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>He found the smartphone in the back pocket of his jeans, under Luc's pants. Then he went back to plop himself</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> on the bed before opening the </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>guilty Whatsapp chat. Damn automatic connection to Wi-fi, for once.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Are you</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> still alive? What happened with that</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> guy last night? Did he molest you?</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Sam couldn't help but chuckle, staring at the screen. He was dying to tell him everything and see how he </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>and his bravado</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> would react, but he stopped himself. He knew that every detail tastes better, if you take the time to savour</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> it.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Good morning to you. How's Cas doing?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Answer my question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Sam could almost hear his brother's threatening tone as he read that one sentence. It was unbelievable what the absence of those emoticons that Dean usually used at nauseating levels could do alone.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>If he</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> molested me? In the best possible way.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>???</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Take it easy. We’re at</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> my place</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> and I’m not tied up or gagged. At least for now ;)</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>He knew he had hit a sensitive spot as soon as he realized that Dean's "is writing..." signal had been going on for more than fifteen seconds. Sam rolled his eyes and snorted even before seeing the results</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> of those keyboard labors. Was his brother really going to pull his ears like a kid at his</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> first school dance? Evidently yes, the vibration of the phone in his hands </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>confirmed.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>What the fuck, Sam?! I left you there with that</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> one glued</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to your ass just because in your life you’ve </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>never </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>even </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>unbuttoned your cuffs before the third candlelight dinner, and you do this to me? Did it look </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>like the right time to decide to gamble, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>to you, the very night I was busy</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> enough handling</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> Cas?</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>Fervently as every time his brother decided to take on his</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> role of the </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>eldest son</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> and take advantage of it to reproach him, Sam threw himself headfirst on the answer. He wanted to sound vindictive, but he was still too happy and satisfied, with his mind on the clouds.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Breathe, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Mommy. As you said, I’m a </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>big boy. And nothing happened. Except for the</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> amazing</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> sex, of course.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shut your pie hole. You don't deserve all this self-satisfaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Really, Dean, wow. Just wow.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Okay, now there are two things you must pay for: the curveball</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> of that</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> sudden change of personality, from nun to stripper in less than a snap of fingers, and </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>that</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> attitude.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Spare some of your envy for the details.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Next time</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> I see you, you’re in for a spanking.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Sam grinned, shaking his head, amused at the idea of his brother's unmotivated agitation.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Say hi to Cas from me, if he is conscious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>He</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> is, the new member of the </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>teetotalers’</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> club. He wants to remind you to use protections.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Jesus Christ, guys. I have been in this</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> world for twenty-six years.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He is joking. We are both joking, we know you can do very well on your own. But always be extra careful</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with strangers, little brother. Understand?</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Said</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the guy</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> who</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> used to drag </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>everything that moved in a gay bar </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>in its dark room...</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>This time the reply came spicy and faster than lightning.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Hey, don’t talk shit about me. I had standards. Always had.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Sam blew loudly.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Of course you did.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>But then he took pity on his apprehension.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>To: Dean</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I'll be careful, Dean. As always.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From: Dean</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>You</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> better. And anyway, next time</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> I see you, you’re getting that spanking. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Smartass.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Sam was about to write him to go fuck himself, but at that moment the old hinges of the bathroom door creaked and the boy jerked his head up. Luc was there, completely naked and busy rubbing his hair with a wet towel.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em>What are you doing with that phone? Does it e</em></span></span><span><span><em>ver</em></span></span><span><span><em> stop r</em></span></span><span><span><em>inging</em></span></span><span><span><em>?” he asked in a neutral tone.</em></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><em>Oh, </em></span></span><span><span><em>it</em></span></span><span><span><em>'s just... my brother,” </em></span></span><span><span><em>Sam</em></span></span><span><span><em> decided to admit, q</em></span></span><span><span><em>uickly</em></span></span><span><span><em> throwing his </em></span></span><span><span><em>smart</em></span></span><span><span><em>phone in the </em></span></span><span><span><em>small pile of </em></span></span><span><span><em>clothes that covered the floor and looking back at Luc with a vaguely embarrassed smile on his lips. “Nothing important.”</em></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>The other </em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>man's grin, just popped from under the towel, widened as soon as Luc considered Sam's body, the way he was lying</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> on the bed and how much his messed-up hair was begging him to be pulled back, hard, just like it had been the previous night.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>"Correct answer," he decreed, approaching the bed with a few firm steps. “You won a prize.”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>What... what kind of prize?” Sam ventured, settling on his side so as not to lose sight of him.</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>"If I told you, I'd ruin the surprise," Luc said with raised eyebrows, lying naturally beside him. “Don't you think, Sammy?”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em>That nickname sent a shiver down Sam's spine. Until that day, he had granted permission to call him that</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> only to his closest relatives and just</em>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <em> because his parents and Dean had never been able to quit, having referred to him with "Sammy" since the day he was born.</em>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>At that juncture, however, he discovered that his childhood nickname did not bother him if placed in Luc's mouth. The man's voice and intonation also transformed shame into something strangely exciting.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>"I suppose so," he whispered then, without a single protest.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><em>Do you have anything better to do than staying here with me on this hot Sunday?” Luc continued to tease him, reaching out to touch the curve of his hips with his fingers.</em></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Sam swallowed and merely shook his head, fearing that if he tried to pronounce them, his words would make no sense. Luc smiled with obvious complacency.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><em>Another correct answer, congratulations. So what are you waiting for? Turn around,” he added, lowering his tone and bringing his lips closer to Sam's ear. “You have</em></span></span><span><span><em>n’t</em></span></span><span><span><em> seen a</em></span></span><span><span><em>nything</em></span></span><span><span><em> yet.”</em></span></span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam slowly opened his eyes, as if waking up from a dream. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>He was getting used to the fact that his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> tendency to get lost in fantasies, as his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> father had always called it</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> – even if many times it was just memories </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>arising</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> – was getting stronger </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>every</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> day, since he </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>had</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> left Luc's house. What he would never get</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> used</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> to was the uncertain and patient expression he found on Charlie's face every time those moments of escape from reality coincided with his therapy sessions.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Finding her in front of himself</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> this time too, Sam took a deep breath. It was Thursday, December 17th, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>ten</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in the morning. They were</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> about halfway through </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Sam’s</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> second session and he hadn't said much </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>yet, except to passively accept Charlie's proposal to start keeping a diary to observe his days in retrospect and write down any relevant events – as if Sam wasn't aware of the </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>fact</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> that both his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> psychotherapist and Castiel</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> thought there was something wrong with him, something to keep tracked and heal. But Sam didn't believe there was anything to intervene </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>on, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>in his life. They were the ones who were looking</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> at it</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> from the wrong point of view. And that damned sofa was terribly uncomfortable.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once again, he had recovered from his memories because he believed he had heard something. After rubbing his eyes briefly, he forced himself to focus on Charlie, whose eyes hadn't left him for a second.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I’m s</span></span></span><span><span><span>orry, d</span></span></span><span><span><span>id you say something</span></span></span><span><span><span>?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>"I asked you how you sleep at night," she went on, nodding an encouraging smile at that first sign of collaboration.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Well. Like a b</span></span></span><span><span><span>aby,”</span></span></span><span><span><span> he lied easily, without even feeling guilty.</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span>Any dreams?” Charlie dug, impassive as she read his thoughts and took care to go and solicit the most painful point.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>However, after a life spent hiding from the investigative skills that Dean </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>used</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> with his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> most loved ones, it was with little difficulty that Sam managed the game, continuing to flaunt an indifferent grimace.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>The usual. Meaningless things related to work, mostly. Nothing relevant.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>The silence that followed was about to choke him. It was evident that Charlie could see beyond the thin veil of his lies, she was not stupid; yet </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>she did not force him. </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>She never forced him, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>she only pretended to move on to a different topic, to distract him and try to rip off</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> the band-aid</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> in the least traumatic way possible. In this, </span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>her doing was</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> very much like Castiel’s.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Sam, what were you thinking </span></span></span><span><span><span>about</span></span></span><span><span><span> a moment ago?” </span></span></span><span><span><span>s</span></span></span><span><span><span>he asked a moment later, letting part of his awareness emerge along with h</span></span></span><span><span><span>er</span></span></span><span><span><span> smart </span></span></span><span><span><span>but kind </span></span></span><span><span><span>smile. “You were a</span></span></span><span><span><span>bsent-minded</span></span></span><span><span><span>for quite a long time</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>W</span></span></span><span><span><span>as </span></span></span><span><span><span>I</span></span></span><span><span><span>?” Sam asked with h</span></span></span><span><span><span>is</span></span></span><span><span><span> eyes </span></span></span><span><span><span>on the floor</span></span></span><span><span><span>, scratching his cheek, and Charlie nodded.</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>At some point I stopped calling you, because it was as if y</span></span></span><span><span><span>ou couldn</span></span></span><span><span><span>'t hear m</span></span></span><span><span><span>e at all</span></span></span><span><span><span>.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span>Realizing that he couldn't run</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> forever, Sam sighed, twisted his</span>
    </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>
      <span> hands and decided to look into her eyes.</span>
    </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I was thinking about my family.”</span></p>
<p>“<span>Hm. You haven't told me much about them.”</span></p>
<p>“<span>Yeah, I know. I don’t really feel like doing that.”</span></p>
<p>“<span>May I ask you why is that?”</span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>I don't feel very supported by them, lately,” </span></span></span><span><span><span>the boy </span></span></span><span><span><span>confessed, letting h</span></span></span><span><span><span>er</span></span></span><span><span><span> feel a touch of </span></span></span><span><span><span>his </span></span></span><span><span><span>bitterness. Realizing that she would not let him get away with so little, he settled on the sofa in an attempt to find a more comfortable position and snorted, annoyed: “It's almost Christmas, okay? All o</span></span></span><span><span><span>f Cas’s</span></span></span><span><span><span> relatives will arrive and it will be a mess. But above all my mother will c</span></span></span><span><span><span>ome too</span></span></span><span><span><span> and from the first to the last moment Dean will only fill her head with </span></span></span><span><span><span>all his</span></span></span><span><span><span> bullshit a</span></span></span><span><span><span>bout</span></span></span><span><span><span> Luc. Sorry,” he added lastly, realizing he hadn't paid any attention to </span></span></span><span><span><span>his</span></span></span><span><span><span> language.</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Charlie nodded peacefully to remind him that there were no forbidden words in there. Not for the moment, when it was already a lot if Sam gave her more than twenty words a session.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>So your brother doesn’t have a great opinion of your boyfriend?” the psychotherapist chose to investigate.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam made an exasperated verse to indicate how underestimated that assessment was.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span><span><span>Let's just say h</span></span></span><span><span><span>e</span></span></span><span><span><span> despise</span></span></span><span><span><span>s</span></span></span><span><span><span> him.”</span></span></span></p>
<p>“<span><span><span>And how do you explain t</span></span></span><span><span><span>hat</span></span></span><span><span><span>?”</span></span></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Sam's gaze turned cold at the thought of how Dean had always refused Luc the luxury of a chance.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>I just don’t get it. It has been like this since the beginning.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really enjoyed writing the part where Sam and Dean chat and yes, I'll admit it, also the previous one. What do you think? Can't wait to hear from you!<br/>Take care :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Foolish months</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry for the lack of line spacing, but something is making the text look like this. If someone knows how to help with that, please reach out! I have cookies ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>- </em> <em>4</em> <sup> <em>th</em> </sup> <em> October</em> <em> 2009, Sam’</em> <em>s place</em> <em> -</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Sam had z</em><em>oned out</em><em>. He w</em><em>as standing</em> <em> motionless on the doorstep of what had been his bedroom for more than two years and, oblivious to all the hubbub surrounding him – </em> <em>i</em><em>ncluding the very explicit b</em><em>lasphemy</em> <em> Dean </em> <em>shouted </em> <em>when a pan fell on his foot and Cas's consequent reprimand – </em> <em>he </em> <em>was </em> <em>now </em> <em>drifting awa</em><em>y, following</em> <em> memories. This was the place where he had cried for his father, so many times that he had lost count. It had been h</em><em>is</em> <em> safe haven after the nights </em> <em>out </em> <em>with his brother, the ones for which, according to Dean, they were now too old. That was the bed where he and Luc </em> <em>had </em> <em>made love for the first time.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Sam, do</em><em>n’t</em><em> you have any boxes for books </em><em>already</em><em>? I found some </em><em>more</em><em> in the bathroom.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam winced, then spun around to the source of that distraction. Cas was a few paces further back, in the corridor, with six or seven novels in his arms and his gaze fixed on him, waiting for an answer.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>O</em><em>h, yes. </em><em>Yes, I do,”</em> <em>he</em><em> pondered, taking a moment to c</em><em>ollect his thoughts</em><em> before l</em><em>eading his</em><em> brother-in-law back into the living area and pointing to one of the few </em><em>still open </em><em>cardboard boxes. “There should be some r</em><em>oom</em><em> in that </em><em>one</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p><em>"Thank you," Cas nodded, crouching in front of him to position the volumes. Sam was wondering what area of the house was left to scout when he noticed the little smile that had spread over his brother-in-law's face. “</em> <em>Anyway, i</em><em>t must be almost lunchtime. Dean i</em><em>s starting</em> <em> to show signs of nervousness.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>In the Winchester house it was customary to refer to Dean's appetite as if it were the hunger of a fickle child, and Cas hadn't taken long to adopt the same custom. Unlike Dean's original family, he found it a source of tenderness.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Sam glanced at his brother and deduced that his brother-in-law must ha</em><em>d</em> <em> come to that realization at least half an hour before, because Dean had reached the point of hitting plates and pans on the shelf next to the stove with a homicidal expression on his face. Sam thought that perhaps Castiel had tried to inform him before the situation worsened, but he had found him too absorbed in the clearing of the bedroom. Given all the emotions Sam had to face to pass that test, it s</em><em>eemed</em> <em> likely.</em></p>
<p>“<em>S</em><em>eems right </em><em>to me,”</em><em> Sam finally recognized, putting aside the melancholy to thank Cas for the help and patience with a smile and a pat on the back. “I had in mind </em><em>to get some take</em><em>away, if that's okay for you too. Pizza, Chinese or hamburger and fries? We have everything close enough. What would you l</em><em>ike best</em><em>, Dean?” he added, turning to his brother after intercepting Cas's eloquent glance.</em></p>
<p><em>Dean didn't even turn around. Instead, he w</em><em>ent on</em> <em> stack</em> <em>ing</em> <em> glasses. He mumbled a few words, but neither h</em><em>is</em> <em> husband nor Sam understood a </em> <em>single one of them</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Excuse me</em><em>? I d</em><em>idn’t get that.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Again, Dean persevered in turning his back on him.</em>
</p>
<p><em>"I said I'd rather spend </em> <em>my </em> <em>Sunday in any other way than filling these damned boxes," he r</em><em>epeated</em> <em> louder, then turned to look for an empty box and completely ignore</em><em>d</em> <em> the stunned looks he was receiving.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>As anyone of them could have foreseen, Cas's warning tone was not long in coming.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Dean.”</em></p>
<p><em>H</em><em>is</em> <em> husband showed no sign of being shaken </em> <em>by that,</em> <em> or even </em> <em>of</em> <em> hearing </em> <em>him</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Well, I'm sorry, but...” Sam then intervened, dazed by that statement. “I do</em><em>n’t</em><em> understand. You offered to help me out.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"And we're happy to, Sam," Cas assured him, sincere and in turn troubled by Dean's decision to bring up that matter at that time and in that way.</em>
</p>
<p><em>"Of course," the eldest Winchester </em> <em>said</em><em>, finally turning to look at his brother, </em> <em>this time straight</em> <em> in the eye. “If only it weren't for you moving to some </em> <em>guy'</em><em>s p</em><em>lace</em> <em> after just two months of knowing e</em><em>ach other</em> <em>.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"That guy has a name," hissed Sam, now caustic.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Okay, o</em><em>f course</em><em>. Lucifer! You're moving to S</em><em>atan’s</em> <em>place,”</em><em> Dean specified, hitting his brother with a sarcasm that aggravate</em><em>d</em><em> the offense instead of remedying it. “Happy now?”</em></p>
<p><em>At h</em><em>is</em> <em> side, Sam intercepted out of the corner of his eye C</em><em>astiel’s</em> <em> discomfort. </em> <em>He</em> <em> was torturing his </em> <em>closed </em> <em>eyes with his forefinger and thumb and was shaking his head, incredulous in front of h</em><em>is</em> <em> husband's attempt to tackle such a delicate topic. But the </em> <em>boy</em> <em>, however hurt and a</em><em>nnoyed</em> <em> by his older brother's words, made an additional effort to remain civil.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Yes, Dean, I'm happy to go and live with the person I love,” he said slowly, to be able to hold back the anger, but without sparing </em><em>him </em><em>a glacial glance. “What </em><em>the hell i</em><em>s </em><em>your problem</em><em>?”</em></p>
<p><em>Dean raised his arms to t</em><em>he ceiling</em><em>, </em><em>maybe </em><em>to s</em><em>ummon</em><em> some mysterious divinity or perhaps, more likely, to t</em><em>ell</em> <em>everyone and </em><em>everything to f</em><em>uck off</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>My </em><em>hell of a </em><em>problem is that</em><em> it's too s</em><em>oon</em><em>, that's m</em><em>y problem</em><em>!”</em></p>
<p><em>Sam saw Cas </em> <em>just </em> <em>one b</em><em>reath</em> <em> away </em> <em>from an</em> <em> intervention, but did not allow it. If h</em><em>is</em> <em> brother had </em> <em>such big </em> <em>r</em><em>ocks</em> <em> t</em> <em>o take off</em> <em> his shoes, it was best to do it as soon as possible.</em></p>
<p>“<em>And who decide</em><em>d that</em><em>?” he asked him then, n</em><em>arrowing</em><em> his e</em><em>yes</em><em>. “You, I guess?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>It's in the order of things!” Dean exclaimed with wide eyes. “In any relationship, two months are </em><em>far</em><em> too few to decide to go and live together, even a </em><em>child would</em><em> know </em><em>that</em><em>. </em><em>Even </em><em>Cas and I waited </em><em>for </em><em>over a year!”</em></p>
<p><em>Surely that would have been the time for Castiel to pull himself out </em> <em>of that argument, </em> <em>if only the two brothers had allowed him to. Sam retorted immediately, without even giving him </em> <em>enough</em> <em> time to choose h</em><em>is</em> <em> words, and Cas thought that the Winchester house must ha</em> <em>d</em> <em> been hell during the t</em> <em>eenage years</em> <em> of two brothers </em> <em>who were always </em> <em>so ready to </em> <em>bite each other’s heads off</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>And you are the reference couple because you’re perfect, aren't you? Luc and I c</em><em>ould</em><em> never aspire to s</em><em>uch thing</em><em>, is this what you are saying?”</em></p>
<p><em>"No, it's not," Dean said between his teeth. The effort he was making to be reasonable was clear, although both Cas and Sam considered i</em><em>t</em> <em> miserable and mediocre respectively. “I'm saying that even the greatest love needs its time, Sam, and I have the impression that you and Luc are r</em><em>ushing into this thing</em> <em> with </em> <em>far </em> <em>too much enthusiasm.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>I think what Dean is trying to say,” Cas began with a step forward, insinuating himself into the folds of the conflict before what was supposed to be a quiet </em><em>family </em><em>Sunday detonated before his eyes, “i</em><em>s that</em><em> you might consider giving yourself a few </em><em>more </em><em>months </em><em>just</em><em> to enjoy the beginning of this new relationship, before taking such an important step.”</em></p>
<p><em>He made sure that Sam perceived his tranquility, even if opposed to the hatred on which Dean had founded that dialogue, t</em><em>hat he could</em> <em> recognize the understanding </em> <em>vibes shining</em> <em> in his eyes. The latest result that Castiel wanted to achieve was to make his brother-in-law feel like the subject of an accusation in court, which was instead Dean's absurd method of debating the issues that worried him most.</em></p>
<p><em>Sam seemed to understand. At least he tried, wholeheartedly, not to let go </em> <em>to his</em> <em> rawest emotions.</em></p>
<p><em>"I am enjoying every single moment of this relationship," he clarified. He was motionless on the spot. Another of his strategies for relaxing, which however made the slight tremor of his wrists more visible. “And I could do it even better if </em> <em>only </em> <em>my brother deigned, </em> <em>for once,</em> <em> to support my choices.”</em></p>
<p><em>Fortunately or u</em>n<em>fortunately</em> <em>, </em> <em>for </em> <em>relief or pain of those present, Luc chose that </em> <em>very </em> <em>moment to open the front door behind Sam and make an entrance that could be called triumphant, if we want to judge based on the festive smile that occupied hi</em><em>s</em> <em> face. None of those present came to pretend that nothing in particular was happening – did they really want to pretend nothing was happening now that the cause of their problem had materialized? - before Luc came up to Sam's back, surrounded his waist with his arms and laid an enthusiastic kiss on the </em> <em>boy’s </em> <em>cheek. Cas could not </em> <em>avoid </em> <em>think</em><em>ing</em> <em> a</em><em>bout</em> <em> how grotesque that gesture of affection appeared, so in contrast to the serious and betrayed look with which Sam was holding Dean anchored in place, a few steps further.</em></p>
<p><em>"Hey, b</em><em>aby</em> <em>," Luc </em> <em>said</em> <em>, adding a pat on Sam's arm as he continued to completely ignore the other two men </em> <em>in the room</em> <em>. “How are the preparations?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"Slow," Sam replied laconically. “I'm not finding much collaboration.”</em>
</p>
<p><em>Although the atmosphere was as pleasant as a handful of snow pressed against o</em> <em>ne’s</em> <em> neck, Luc chuckled.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Man, just l</em><em>ook at him. Isn't h</em><em>e</em><em> t</em><em>he</em><em> sweet</em><em>est thing</em><em> when h</em><em>e</em><em> pout</em><em>s</em><em>?” he did not let himself be discouraged, casting his first glance in C</em><em>astiel and Dean’s</em><em> direction.</em></p>
<p><em>Cas forced a smile </em> <em>on </em> <em>and, feeling h</em><em>is</em> <em> husband's growing aversion, put a hand on his back. To external eyes he could have passed it off as a simple caress, while in reality he was doing everything possible to keep D</em> <em>ean</em> <em> from saying or doing too much once more. Sam was already on the verge of exploding, Dean needed to calm down.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Luc didn't realize anything, or decided not to, returning immediately to Sam.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Give me that box, come on. I parked the van in the driveway, we can start loading.”</em></p>
<p><em>"I'll take this one," Sam i</em><em>nsisted</em> <em>, casting a final significant glance at his older brother before making big strides towards the door. “I need to get some air.”</em></p>
<p><em>Once he was out, Luc wasted no time and sighted one of the last boxes that had been filled and closed. Dean had left i</em><em>t</em> <em> on the table and it was evident how close he was to throwing i</em><em>t</em> <em> to the ground in </em> <em>a fit of rage</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>You want to give that to me, Dean?” Luc proposed, approaching willingly.</em></p>
<p><em>Dean didn't even consider it. He merely pushed the aforementioned box, implying that Luc could do whatever he wanted </em> <em>with it</em> <em> – e</em><em>ven if Dean would have preferred him to</em> <em> smash it o</em> <em>n</em> <em> h</em> <em>is own</em> <em> head –, and, just as Cas was about to offer him a private chat, he grabbed the wallet from the shelf where he </em> <em>had</em> <em> left it and imitated Sam, aiming for the exit.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"I'm going to get lunch," he snarled, before pulling the door behind him.</em>
</p>
<p><em>When Luc had also gone out to reach the van, Cas heaved a disconsolate sigh and fell to sit on the first available support. Sometimes, no matter how much energy it took, he just couldn't understand what kind of connections Dean's mind made, such as to convince him that attacking his younger brother was the best way to resolve a dispute, clarify, sort things out. Sometimes, Cas would have liked to throttle h</em><em>is</em> <em> husband.</em></p>
<p><em>The psychotherapist in him suggested that he wait</em><em>ed</em> <em> at least a quarter of an hour b</em><em>efore going to</em> <em> look for Sam. Anger took some time to simmer and arguing over confused ideas would have led to nothing. After just two minutes of waiting – when he was sure that Luc would h</em><em>ave been</em> <em> out of range for a while, busy as he was to clear the basement –, Cas t</em><em>old</em> <em> the psychotherapist who </em> <em>was in him to get lost</em> <em> and reached the driveway.</em></p>
<p><em>Even though it was autumn, the days were still hot and Sam was t</em><em>inkering</em> <em> next to the p</em><em>ickup</em> <em> in short sleeves, trying to apply logistic notions capable of creating space even where there was none. H</em><em>is</em> <em> brother-in-law really owned a lot of books, Cas considered.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Sam,” he called, stopping a few steps b</em><em>ehind</em><em> him with his hands in the pockets of the worn </em><em>out</em><em> jeans that Dean found so stupidly sexy on him. As soon as the </em><em>boy</em><em> turned around, he found another of Castiel's life-saving smiles waiting for him. “H</em><em>e’ll come around, you’ll see</em><em>. These are his usual w</em><em>orries</em><em>, don't mind too much.”</em></p>
<p><em>Welcoming his closeness like a sip of fresh water, Sam straightened up and pulled his hair back. He grabbed the environmental-themed water bottle that he carried everywhere, drained almost half of its contents and only then allowed himself a s</em> <em>uffered</em> <em> sigh.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Why, Cas? Why can't he just trust me and be happy for me for once?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>I think you know why,” the other answered with a grimace with which he intended to dampen the dramatic tones. “He didn't exactly kill the fat calf when you and Luc started dating.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam returned his bottle to the floor, on the gravel of the driveway, with a pissed off puff.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>He never fully approved any of my b</em><em>oyfriends</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Imitating him, Cas leaned against the van and crossed his arms.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Maybe it's true. On the other hand, if I have to remember how my brother reacted to the news that I would h</em><em>ave moved</em><em> to Dean's p</em><em>lace</em><em>...” he remembered, shaking his head with a laugh now that that was no longer a concern. Since he had managed to arouse Sam's interest, </em><em>however, </em><em>he continued: “He made a terrible scene. And in front of the whole family, moreover, since I had the great idea of making the announcement during</em><em> a</em><em> Sunday lunch. Not that my parents were thrilled, I was still going to live with a man, but Michael... I think, if he had been younger, my father would have slapped him </em><em>in the face</em><em>. For what he told me. The way he said it.”</em></p>
<p><em>"W</em><em>ow</em> <em>," Sam said softly, raising his eyebrows in a stunned grimace.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Over time he learned to trust Dean. Your brother earned it with </em><em>his </em><em>sweat, tears and blood, t</em><em>hat</em><em> trust. Michael's first impression of him had been disastrous”, Cas said.</em></p>
<p><em>He was discovering that remembering the church of Helena he had attended</em> <em>since childhood </em><em>and </em><em>until leaving for college and the joke with which Dean had frozen most of the faithful present at Sunday mass amused him more than he should. If Michael had known, he would have rebuked him for his superficiality. What if he </em><em>had </em><em>found out that Eileen and the Novak brothers' mother could be counted among those who laughed? Castiel had to return to focus on his brother-in-law's black mood to stop grinning at the thought.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I'm only telling you </em><em>this </em><em>to corroborate the argument that older brothers are like that, Sam: they care </em><em>and worry no matter what</em><em>. But you were right, before: this is your life and these,” he continued, pointing to the van full of the r</em><em>esults</em><em> of S</em><em>am’s moving out, “</em><em>are choices that are up to you. And no one, not even Dean, </em><em>with what</em><em> he believes to be his l</em><em>ongstanding</em><em> experience, can predict how it’</em><em>ll</em><em> go between you and Luc. So don't mind your brother, if you can. Take care of yourself. The best way to react is to prove him wrong, </em><em>to prove him </em><em>that you are able to look after yourself without him getting too involved.”</em></p>
<p><em>Cas and Dean had already discussed t</em><em>hat matter</em> <em> privately. God, since Sam had found a </em> <em>new </em> <em>boy</em> <em>friend</em><em>, it seemed to Cas that Dean spent three quarters of their conversations complaining about Luc, only to resent every time h</em><em>is</em> <em> husband concluded by pointing out that there was nothing concrete he could accuse Sam's new boyfriend </em> <em>of</em><em>. Dean was outraged b</em><em>ecause</em> <em> he believed </em> <em>in </em> <em>his sixth sense more than </em> <em>he did in </em> <em>the evidence of a thousand investigations – not that he was sparing investigations into Luc's past, a</em><em>nyway</em> <em> – and refused to surrender to Sam's pure and simple happiness. A behavior that Castiel, given his proven experience as a hyper-protected younger brother, found deeply unfair, as well as immature.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam listened carefully and finally nodded, wearing a slightly more convinced smile.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Thanks for the support, Cas. Really, it means a lot.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Whenever you wish, f</em><em>ellow sufferer,”</em><em> Cas </em><em>went ironic</em><em>, easing the tension by giving him a pat on the back before releasing the support of the p</em><em>ickup</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Would D</em><em>ean be our shared pain</em><em>?” Sam joked, and his brother-in-law gave him a look between severe and amused.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Our common f</em><em>ate</em><em> a</em><em>s</em><em> younger brothers, if anything.”</em></p>
<p><em>He was about to leave, to leave him to look after his thoughts, when Sam a</em> <em>sked</em> <em> for his attention </em> <em>once again</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Cas?” he called, hesitating once he had his brother-in-law's eyes on him again. “</em><em>Do y</em><em>ou believe that Luc and I... I </em><em>mean</em><em>, that we...?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Cas did not struggle to understand what was hidden behind his insecurity, but he would not have lied only in order to please him. Instead he bowed his head to the side, carefully evaluating each word he was about to say.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I</em><em>n all honesty</em><em>, I still know him too little to s</em><em>peak</em><em>. But you’</em><em>re really into</em><em> each other, that's for sure, and I know how it feels when you have just fallen in love. You are experiencing what my sister calls the f</em><em>oolish</em><em> months,” he explained in the soft voice of nostalgia at the thought of how many months separated him from Eileen's last visit, “but this does not mean that your relationship is missing something. You are building it day by day, it makes you happy. For now, you don't need anything else. Don't let Dean ruin your f</em><em>oolish</em><em> months, because he enjoyed his big time. I can only wish you all the best in the world,” he concluded, without sparing his frankness.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam, as expected, appreciated the gesture.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Thanks," he repeated, almost moved.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Cas shrugged to tell him not to worry.</em>
</p>
<p><em>"I'm going to intercept Dean," he announced immediately after, walking quietly towards the road with his hands buried in his pockets again. “He’’ll need a hand to bring food for four. And someone who s</em><em>colds him </em> <em>f</em> <em>or being an insufferable</em> <em> know-it-all.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>The first spontaneous laugh of the day rang in Sam's throat.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>If you quote </em><em>Severus Snape</em><em>, he'll throw fries a</em><em>t</em><em> you.”</em></p>
<p><em>"It's out of the question," Cas exclaimed with a c</em><em>onfidence</em> <em> that had come from a five-year relationship with that absurd case that was Dean Winchester. “</em> <em>He l</em><em>ove</em><em>s</em> <em> food more than he</em> <em>love</em><em>s</em> <em> being right. And, deep down, he is nerd</em><em>ier</em> <em> than the two of us put together.”</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's always hard to find time to finish these chapters, but I won't deny it's always a pleasure when I get to publish. Looking forward to hear from you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Best intentions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was Christmas Eve and Sam felt like he was about to burst. Sitting backwards on the chair which was closest to the window in Dean and Castiel's dining room, he was staring at the screen of his laptop, getting more nervous every minute he spent looking for words with which to fill the still white Word page.</p>
<p>Needless to say, Charlie's strategy of making him keep a diary was proving to be an immense dead end. Sam didn't feel any better at the thought of throwing up the bland content of his days on a file. Just as his mood did not improve when, looking up from the keyboard, he saw Cas in the kitchen, intent on shredding carrots and celery and stirring minced meat for that evening's menu – the studio would have stayed closed for the holidays until New Year, saving Sam from another chat with Charlie, but his brother-in-law was there, just in case. Sam felt suffocated by the idea that Cas could see him as one of his patients now, a case to analyze him through the lens of psychotherapy.</p>
<p>In a vain attempt to distract himself, the boy moved the cursor of the laptop to land on the Whatsapp Web page that he kept constantly open. There too, no satisfaction. The last message he had received had arrived that morning, at dawn, and was from Donna. It contained only the umpteenth wishes for a Merry Christmas and happy holidays, since the university library would also have remained closed for a few days.</p>
<p>Sam hadn't replied. After the initial anger, in the last few days her colleague had started talking to him again, but she always had such a pitying expression on her face that Sam wanted to scream. The young man suspected that Dean had called her. And he was damned tired of his brother discussing about him behind his back, presenting his situation as he liked best.</p>
<p>At least in his presence, however, Dean and Castiel had calmed down. In their own small way, they seemed to be content with never having received news of Luc and of no longer seeing Sam rushing into hiding to read his messages. Yes, because Sam had not received anymore. The roses, however, had continued to arrive on time, one a day, in his locker in the library. But no more words, not even a ticket. It was one of the reasons Sam felt so close to the edge.</p>
<p>The more he tried to cling to the promise not to disappoint Dean, the more he realized how much he missed Luc. On the other hand, did he not live in close contact with a couple who lacked nothing? Not a day passed without Sam noticing the little aspects that made Dean and Castiel's relationship wonderful. Cas moved Dean's cup every morning, as soon as he, distracted by the news, placed it too close to the edge of the table. Dean picked up the socks that Cas scattered on the floor of their bedroom, without complaining. Dean who, once Cas fell asleep on him on the sofa, in the evening, moved with the circumspection of a cat to be able to spread a blanket on his husband’s curled up body without waking him. Cas who, despite wanting Dean to grow a beard, always made sure he could find a new bottle of his favorite aftershave lotion in the bathroom cabinet.</p>
<p>Those were gestures that they themselves considered tiny, customary, but that helped to bring them closer to the point of igniting Sam with envy, at times. More and more, lately. What Dean and Cas had seemed to push Sam to go back, even more so. Why could they live their love and he could not? What if Luc had stopped writing to him because he was losing his patience? What if he had understood he didn't want anything more to do with Sam because he was acting like a capricious kid?</p>
<p>It was half past two in the afternoon, Cas had just finished putting the dinner crockery in place and Sam could not stop the cumbersome flow of thoughts, when the lock on the front door clicked and Dean appeared in the doorway to throw the wet with snow umbrella in the special basket next to the entrance. At the same time, he placed a compact suitcase just in front of him.</p>
<p>"Finally home," he snorted, quickly taking off his coat as he cleared the passage. “What a heavy traffic.”</p>
<p>Immediately a crystalline laugh rang out behind him.</p>
<p>“It's Christmas Eve, honey. You are already one step away from holiness for coming to pick me up at the station.”</p>
<p>As soon as he glimpsed a mass of wavy blond hair peeking out from behind Dean's back, Sam thanked the sky that the bruise under the eye that had stayed with him for weeks had completely reabsorbed and that of the wound on the temple there remained only an almost invisible cut, now that Jody had removed the stitches. As soon as his mother passed over the mat on which she had stopped to rub the soles of her shoes and looked up from the ground, her eyes met those of the twenty-six-year-old and began to shine with happiness.</p>
<p>“Sam!” Mary Winchester exclaimed, almost running to reach her youngest son at the end of the room.</p>
<p>"Mom," Sam said simply with a trembling smile, spreading his arms to hold her against him and let her do the same.</p>
<p>They had not seen each other since August, when Sam had taken advantage of a weekend in which Luc was busy to take a trip to her, in Orlando, together with Dean and Cas. Now that she was there, wrapped in one of her old coats, wearing the unmistakable scent that her children had learned to associate with her figure since childhood, Sam realized how much he had missed her. His mother refused to break the hug until Dean also approached them and the woman was able to make him join the reunion.</p>
<p>"Oh, I'm so happy to see both my little men again," she murmured, grateful.</p>
<p>“Little men?” Dean laughed. “You know, we are closer to hospices than kindergartens now.”</p>
<p>"Speak for yourself, old man," Cas came in with a smile. Respectful of his host's priorities, he had stood aside for a moment to watch that family reunion, but now he was slowly advancing towards them, wiping his hands on a dishcloth that he threw against his husband's chest before turning to his mother-in-law: “Mary, you have to visit us more often. I can't keep Dean at bay without you.”</p>
<p>Mary laughed, separating from her children to go and greet her son-in-law with an equally enthusiastic hug.</p>
<p>“Oh, Castiel,” she sighed, letting him go just to cast an aware glance at her older son. “Who says anyone ever managed to keep him at bay?”</p>
<p>"Holy words," Dean nodded with a satisfied grin.</p>
<p>"Anyway, if anyone can do it, that's you," Mary clarified, exchanging some more eloquent glances with those present before getting Dean to help get rid of his coat. “So when will the army arrive?”</p>
<p>"Oh, around dinner time," Cas said cheerfully, scratching his head before hinting at the kitchen counter, which was cluttered with pots, pans and baskets full of ingredients. “In time to avoid the fatigue of the preparations, I guess.”</p>
<p>“By the way, can I help out somehow? I just have to put the trolley down and then...”</p>
<p>“I'll take care of it,” Dean preceded her, returning to grab the handle of the suitcase to take it to the sleeping area, since they would have got Mary to the hotel only once all the toasts were done.</p>
<p>“Well, then here I am,” Mrs. Winchester decreed, spreading her arms with a smile. “Do with me as you will.”</p>
<p>That was the moment when the joyful atmosphere that Mary had dragged with her from Florida cracked for the first time. Cas hesitated to answer, then glanced quickly at Sam before continuing, pretending he hadn't done anything to alert his brother-in-law's senses.</p>
<p>"Actually, I was thinking of personally taking the risk of going out to buy the last stuff I need for the dinner tonight," he announced, and it was clear for how long that plan had been premeditated. “I also thought that you, Dean and Sam could stay here and have a little chat. You know, catch up. You see each other so rarely, you’ll surely have a lot to share.”</p>
<p>Mary was dumbfounded enough to allow Sam to guess that his mother was unaware of any cumbersome project Castiel was putting in place.</p>
<p>"You are very kind, Cas," the woman replied, at the same time turning with a confused smile to her youngest son. “But taking care of errands on Christmas Eve by yourself really is a thankless task. Are you sure about that?”</p>
<p>“He will be faster, like that,” Dean intervened, reappearing in the living room and supporting his husband with that determination of his that made it impossible to fight back. “On these occasions, the Winchesters are nothing but an impediment. Isn't that right, Cas?”</p>
<p>“Actually, when I said that, I was talking only about you,” Castiel teased him, giggling in front of his sudden offended expression before returning to reassure Mary: “Anyway, I will manage. Really. You take some time. You all need it,” he nodded firmly, before leaning towards Dean to greet him with a kiss on the lips. “See you later, honey. Take a look at the meat sauce every now and then. It is cooking on a low flame, but...”</p>
<p>“But if I take a look at it every now and then, then it’ll feel the social pressure and behave better, I know,” Dean interrupted him, deserving the exasperated look his husband gave him. “I'm kidding. It was a joke.”</p>
<p>“A bad joke.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Yet you persevere in loving me,” Dean admitted, putting a million dollar smile on. “I'll take care of mixing it occasionally. Be careful on the streets.”</p>
<p>"Always," Cas promised, quickly pulling on his snow boots and anorak.</p>
<p>A hurried greeting and he was already out in the corridor. Dazed by the rapidity of the events, Sam looked around blinking. What was happening? Because it was clear that something was happening right there before his eyes, something he was unaware of. And if he wasn't invited to participate, then it meant he was the victim of the game. He had mathematical certainty about that a few moments later, when his mother took a seat on the living room sofa with a sigh and looked up to focus on him.</p>
<p>“Well, then, Sam?” she urged him, smiling at him as when, years before, he asked him how his day at school had been. “Dean has already updated me in the car about all the highlights of his life. How are you?”</p>
<p>Sam turned to his brother and Dean almost immediately looked away. It wasn't like Dean. It was absolutely not an action that his older brother would have done if there hadn't been a risky behavior to weigh on his heart. But it was Sam's who missed a beat when he realized what had happened.</p>
<p>“You told her, didn't you?” he whispered, struggling to let out even the little breath he managed to gather. Suddenly, he felt anger mount inside him at the idea of having been deceived and his voice began to tremble: “You told her everything.”</p>
<p>Dean looked back at him only to beg him, while all the bridges built to arrive safely until then collapsed on him.</p>
<p>“Sammy...”</p>
<p>“Every. <em>Fucking</em>. Thing!” Sam interrupted him, raising his voice with every word and even making his mother jump.</p>
<p>“Sammy, please...”</p>
<p>“Fuck you. Fuck you, Dean, you don't...” Sam stammered, starting to walk around the room with his head down in the impossible attempt to calm down. Then he stopped with a raised fist and took a few seconds to pull himself back together, before going back to face his brother. He wouldn't cry. Not at that point, not when his family members could see him. He wouldn't have given his pain away so easily, not this time. “You fucking promised me. You swore to me. You never understand when to stop, do you? You can never understand a single fucking thing.”</p>
<p>His frustrated and furious gaze was like a hook harpooned on Dean's skin, ready to shoot and injure his brother to death. Dean was incredibly silent, with parted lips. For a moment, he seemed unable to recognize his little brother behind that reaction. Then the boys' mother intervened, with a soft voice, like the dawn of a day of holiday.</p>
<p>"Sam, honey," she called softly, then waited for the youngest to give her his attention. “Your brother's intentions were the best possible, okay? I understand that you feel hurt, because he didn't keep the promise he made you. But I was the one who insisted on him telling me what was wrong, because I felt that something had happened. And don't deceive yourself: even if he hadn't anticipated anything, it would have been enough for me to see your faces once I got here to start interrogating both of you.”</p>
<p>Sam had a flash in which he imagined what his father would have added if only he had been with them again. He probably would have thrown a vague threat into the air, something very similar to an "And it wouldn't have been pleasant", to confirm his wife's words. Sam tore that thought out of his mind with a snap of his head.</p>
<p>"Dean doesn't understand," he said furiously. “Whatever he told you, it's his version of the story.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” his mother nodded, calm. “Then now you will tell me yours.”</p>
<p>Sam incinerated his brother with another look.</p>
<p>“As if he hadn't already introduced it to you and examined it with all his critical tones,” he hissed, barely holding back.</p>
<p>"However, there are some things that I want to hear from you and you alone," his mother persevered, and this time the determination that transpired from her tone had some effect on the boy. “Okay, Sam?”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Don't you dare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to CertainlyHeisenberg for the line spacing advice. Now things are much better, thank you so much :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Though he was the first to be surprised by that, after a couple of seconds Sam found himself nodding. The situation was stalled – Dean more than anyone else in there looked frozen because of a terror he was unable to express and that his brother could not understand –, so there was really nothing else he could do. On the other hand, despite being defensive, he felt powerful. He was too angry to fear losing a battle which, after all, depended on him.</p>
<p>So he grabbed a chair, pulled it away from the table and sat on it angrily, crossing his arms. His mother pretended not to notice his protective wall and approached the matter with delicate firmness, as when his youngest son was a teenager and John Winchester's military methods did nothing but exacerbate his hostility.</p>
<p>“Can you tell me anything about this Luc?”</p>
<p>"He's my boyfriend," Sam said, sticking to the essential. “We love each other.”</p>
<p>“Is that all?” Mary lightly pushed him, raising an eyebrow.</p>
<p>Sam opened his mouth without hesitation and did not spare her all of his poison. He really felt like he was fifteen again and finding himself negotiating the terms of his freedom with his parents, with the only difference that this time his father would not have lectured him for half an hour before sending him to bed without dinner and without giving him the slightest opportunity to assert his point.</p>
<p>“Dean has already shown me he can't understand anything else about us, so I don't see how you could. You two are on the same page, at least as far as this story is concerned. And he has already tried to make me say that Luc is a bad person. Well, he isn't. We had a disagreement, we’ll make up. Get it through your head.”</p>
<p>At that point Dean, overwhelmed as he was, collapsed to sit on the sofa, half a meter away from his mother, shaking his head. With his face buried in his hands, he repeated the word "disagreement" in an incredulous voice. Mary paid no attention to him and kept focused, forcing Sam to do the same.</p>
<p>“I can't understand, huh?” she repeated with a grimace.</p>
<p>Not knowing where she was going with that, Sam no longer had the answer so ready.</p>
<p>“I don't think so, no. Not after Dean warned you,” he said, more circumspect.</p>
<p>“He did, Sam. And I'll be honest with you, I'm scared. But I want to understand. I need to,” Mary explained, putting her hands together on her lap before leaning a little further towards the point her son had chosen as a temporary refuge. “Do you and Luc have a disciplinary relationship?”</p>
<p>Sam felt something break inside him and Dean happened to feel exactly the same. Perhaps what fell apart was the belief that their mother was such a naive woman. The silence that followed, on the contrary, was made of shiny, slippery and cold metal, and Sam made an enormous effort to tackle it.</p>
<p>“What?” he whispered, bewildered.</p>
<p>Mary didn't even blink and just clarified the question.</p>
<p>“Dean quoted your textual words for me. He said, because you said, that Luc hit you because, if you screw up, he takes measures. And that you agree, that you want him to do it,” she reported, opposing her own tranquility to the growing discomfort that was making its way on both her children’s faces. “So answer me, please: do you and Luc have a disciplinary relationship?”</p>
<p>For a moment, when he met Dean's wide-eyed eyes, Sam was a child again and his brother a partner in some prank to be kept hidden from their parents. But it took him little to remember the reason for the indignation that continued to sting his stomach, even though it was now the sense of surprise that came out more. It took him little to remember he was alone on that side of the barricade.</p>
<p>“I guess... I guess you could call it that,” Sam mumbled, praying only that the conversation would end as soon as possible.</p>
<p>But his mother, despite not having been the sergeant in command during his childhood and adolescence, had solid journalism studies on her back. The last mistake she was willing to commit was to surrender first, on the interrogation front. Not at all impressed by the fact that her children were blushing like little boys, she went on straight as a die.</p>
<p>“And did you both agree on written rules to be respected? On all the limits beyond which neither of you can go? All the safe words you need?”</p>
<p>That went past Dean's last endurance threshold.</p>
<p>"Holy Christ," he muttered, leaping to his feet, puffing and wide-eyed, as if the couch was burning.</p>
<p>He too, like his brother, was drowning in the embarrassment of discussing such a topic with his mother. If only the two boys had been able to communicate telepathically, they would have agreed that this experience was comparable only to the time when, in different years, Mary had taken them aside to send the fairy tale about bees and flowers to retirement once and for all and begin to demand that they always kept a pack of condoms in their backpack. Both brothers hadn’t been more than fourteen years old, at the time when it was their turn for that speech. Dean was pretty sure he had been thirteen.</p>
<p>Mary had never believed in unreasonable half measures. She had never been the kind of parent who, while acknowledging the dangers of sex, refuses to admit that her children had got to a moment of their lives when they had all the needs and desires of an adult. She had never done anything to stop Sam or Dean from having the experiences they wanted, at the age when they felt ready to approach them. On the other hand, she had always demanded that they demonstrated common sense and maturity in making each of those choices and in addressing the speeches connected to them, which she deemed necessary although uncomfortable.</p>
<p>It was for the same reason that she did not ignore her eldest son's startled reaction to just hearing of the safe words that he himself had used from time to time, even without Mary having to know.</p>
<p>“Dean, sit down. Stop being a child,” the woman replied, in such an imperturbable and categorical tone of voice that Dean did not dare to protest or resist. His mother only checked him out of the corner of her eye before returning to push her youngest: “So, Sam? Do you have these guarantees or not?”</p>
<p>Just like when he was little, Sam froze with his mouth open on the first syllable of the first word. A little shocked by his mother’s transparency, a little taken aback and absolutely unprepared about the matter – if not enough to reply to Dean's teasing through the years – he had no idea what he could have said not to make his own situation worse. It was true that nothing of what his mother had named had ever come out with Luc. On the other hand, they had never even defined their own as a disciplinary relationship. Luc had started to behave in a certain way and Sam had adapted.</p>
<p><em> No</em>, Sam mentally corrected himself. <em> He had to start correcting me because it was my behavior that h </em> <em> ad become </em> <em> inadequate. It was my fault. It has always been my fault. </em></p>
<p>But he had nothing to offer his mother and her precision, nor did he believe it would have been so easy to make her believe he understood and lived the lifestyle that she had just summarized in a few words. If only he could have convinced her that he and Luc shared exactly the kind of disciplinary relationship that she didn't seem to want to blame, he would have been safe. Maybe later his mother would have convinced Dean to leave him alone. But suddenly he was so confused that his theatrical skills felt worse than ever.</p>
<p>“I…”</p>
<p>"Because darling, if you don't have them, and I have some reasons to believe that you don't," Mary continued, sweeter than disappointed, "then you're lying to us both and yourself. Then it means that you found yourself in the middle of an abusive relationship and that you are navigating by sight, believing that you are at the helm when you are actually drifting.”</p>
<p>Sam felt suffocated again. It was with the force of despair that he managed to resist.</p>
<p>"No," he gasped. “No, it’s not like that. Luc loves me. He just wants the best for the two of us.”</p>
<p>The forced intensification of Mary's smile only made him sadder.</p>
<p>“How can you be so sure, after what happened?”</p>
<p>Feeling once again like the accused in a courtroom, Sam jumped to his feet.</p>
<p>“Because he cares! He writes, sends me flowers, makes sure I’m fine. Fuck, he wasn’t even mad about that shitty restraining order you forced me to sign!” he shouted in his brother’s direction. “He might have some obsessions, but it’s not paranoia and it’s not something that I do not want. Because Luc cares about me. He doesn't keep me on a leash for fun, he does it because he worries about me. And I'm sick and tired of having to repeat this story to people who don't really want to listen to me, but just judge us!”</p>
<p>The silence, broken only by his shortness of breath, did not last long.</p>
<p>“Sammy,” Dean intervened almost shyly, as he stood up with the measured attitude of someone who wants to approach a stray dog. “We worry about you too. God, what else do you think I’ve been doing non-stop for a month now?”</p>
<p>Faced with what seemed the same, unbearable chorus of always, Sam gave vent to a nervous laugh, spreading his arms and then throwing his hands on his thighs in a theatrical way. Then he went back and shot his brother with a lethal mixture of sarcasm and anger in his grey-green eyes.</p>
<p>“I really don't understand all this hatred towards Luc, Dean,” he confronted him, pointing straight to the top of the problem. “For those bruises, seriously? I don’t recall Dad ever sparing himself in terms of smacking us, yet he was always your hero, wasn't he? He still is.”</p>
<p>Dean took a step back, shoked by that confrontation shot so suddenly. Even Mary had now lost the boldness with wich she had given him the speech until a few moments before. She was looking at her youngest son with a wounded expression that hid the thousand doubts, remorse and regrets with which a mother finds herself living.</p>
<p>“Don't play,” Dean murmured, motionless but one step away from bursting with anger or into tears. “Don't play with me on this, Sam, don't lie, because you know as well as me that nothing, <em>nothing</em> Dad did to us has ever left bruises like the ones I've seen on your skin in the last few weeks,” Dean replied, while the pride he felt for his father exuded from his outraged, vibrant tone. “Even if he slapped you every now and then to teach you some respect, don't you dare compare him to...”</p>
<p>But Sam didn't let him continue.</p>
<p>“That's not the point!” he cried out.</p>
<p>“Then you tell me what is the damn point!” Dean roared, destroyed. “What the hell are you saying?”</p>
<p>In spite of everything, Sam took the time to breathe. He felt as if he had stayed underwater for days.</p>
<p>“I'm saying you contradict yourself. And that I have Luc, now, who takes care of me,” he replied, going back to use a civil tone, although he could not release his fists. “And if you insinuate that his way of doing is wrong, while you've never really stood up to Dad and his way of doing things, you are nothing but a hypocrite,” he persevered, without slowing down when he saw the astonishment spread over Dean’s face. Yes, he, Sam Winchester, was supporting his father. His father and Luc with him. Dean would better believe it. “So leave me alone, stop fucking with me, get out of my life if you can't stand that there is someone I care about more than I care about you!”</p>
<p>If Dean had appeared wounded before, he was now disintegrated. The storm of emotions that was burning inside him began to show on his face and for a moment the thirty-year-old did not know where to lay his eyes.</p>
<p>"You're not serious," he tore from his throat shortly a moment later, challenging his brother to do him more harm.</p>
<p>Sam swallowed, but did not retreat.</p>
<p>“You have Cas. You’ve had him for years now. I've never had anything like this before, and now that I've found it...”</p>
<p>Dean snorted in a chuckle that made even the last drops of Sam’s pity dry up.</p>
<p>“Do you really think that disgusting excuse for a man cares about you?” the eldest asked, no longer knowing what to hold onto. Everyone of his certainties was crumbling down between his fingers at a devastating speed. “And that there is someone, past or present, that I would put in front of you? It has never been like that, Sam, ever. Neither Dad, nor Mom, nor my friends or boyfriends, not even Cas. Jesus Christ, I'm making him go through hell with this story! You have always been my first and most nagging thought, I would give anything for you and now you must see that, Sam. I need you to see that,” he exclaimed, cutting the air with his hand. “I’m begging you.”</p>
<p>Sam didn't move. He did everything possible not to show that he had a lump in his throat.</p>
<p>“Well,” he declared, without thinking about what he was sacrificing to have the last word, “maybe it's not the same for me. Not anymore.”</p>
<p>He must had lost his mind. It was the only explanation, because it was not possible that his older brother's eyes had just filled with tears in a living room which was so hot, so well illuminated, so ready for Christmas celebrations and doe the announcement of the arrival of a son.</p>
<p>“Fine. Awesome. Just what I needed today,” Dean declared, too proud to put a hand on his face. Too hardened by what had just been said with apparent lightness to try once more. "Thanks for the fucking family meeting," he added, turning around and starting to walk towards the corridor leading to the bedrooms.</p>
<p>"You wanted this," Sam hissed.</p>
<p>"Sam, that's enough," Mary warned him sternly. When the boy looked at her after a long time, she remained rigid: “Stop it now.”</p>
<p>It was the turn of Sam's eyes to pinch with the tears he held back.</p>
<p>"You started this," was all he could say. “You were the ones who asked for all this.”</p>
<p>Before he could fully realize it, his legs were already moving rapidly towards the entrance of the apartment. He heard the rustle of his coat and then the door slammed behind him before the first, battered hiccup came out of his throat. He never knew if he started running on the stairs or when he was still in the corridor.</p>
<p>He no longer understood anything. He didn't know what had happened to him, to his family. It was out of pure instinct that he found himself fleeing towards the city center, sliding fast down the street in a confusing and depressing state at the same time, a bit like the warm tears that had started to roll down his cheeks.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know, I know. Suffering. A lot of it If it can make you feel better, I still feel bad re-reading this chapter. But the explosion had to come sooner or later, I guess.<br/>For the most attentive, yes, you noticed right: Dean’s final outburst is loosely based on that marvellous fraternal love exchange that Dean and Sam have in the 23rd episode of the 8th season. It's one of my favorite dramatic scenes in the whole series, so I couldn't resist the temptation to insert it in this tragic chapter.<br/>I would really like to know your opinion!<br/>See you next time :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. So gentle lights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Sam did not know how he found himself in the Christmas markets square. The furious fight with his brother, the shouting and lastly the disappointment in his mother's eyes had emptied him. He had walked for more than an hour, without any regard for the turns of the road he had followed aimlessly, for the mere need to keep marching on while giving his tears all the room they wanted. Or so he believed, until he had arrived in the square and, recognizing it, he had stopped suddenly.</p>
<p>Although he had not been there for at least ten years, the scent of hot chocolate that ran up his nose was enough to send him back to first grade. When he and Dean were little, during Christmas holidays their parents used to take them there at least once a year. They hardly ever bought some of the decorations displayed in the small wooden houses, but they walked together, the children snacked on something warm and the whole family enjoyed the enchanted atmosphere created by the lights that covered houses, trees and lampposts.</p>
<p>Sam found a bench, cleared it of the snow that had fallen on it and sat there, letting the memories soothe his tears. Two little girls passed in front of him, chasing each other and laughing with a stick of caramelized sugar for each one in their hands. Sam saw them stop a few meters away to admire a lonely oak tree covered with candles and caught himself smiling.</p>
<p>As a child he had loved the magic of those lights. So gentle lights, just like fairy nests.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>- December 22, 1989 -</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>- Sioux Falls Market Square -</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>The fir trees were interesting, but what they hid was better and Sam, despite being only six years old, knew it. After swinging on </em> <em>his </em> <em>tiptoes for what seemed like hours, while his parents calmly discussed </em> <em>about </em> <em>the height and width of the foliage, he took advantage of a moment of freedom to walk around the trees, </em> <em>which had been </em> <em>left around as if th</em><em>eir owner wished</em> <em> to imitate a real forest. Sam could have played the a</em><em>dventurer</em><em>. Another time, maybe. Now he wanted to reach what was on the other side of that haggard grove.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Sammy, stay close to me. You will end up getting lost.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>His mother Mary's voice passed over his head like a gust of wind, holding him still just long enough for the child to recognize her.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I won't get lost," Sam said, continuing to walk calmly, swinging through the trees.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Sam, listen to your mother. Hey,” his father called him, and at that point the child stopped and turned instinctively, recognizing a tone </em><em>of voice </em><em>it was wise not to u</em><em>nderestimate</em><em>. In</em><em>deed</em><em>, John Winchester's stern gaze was </em><em>already </em><em>focused on him. “What did I just tell you? Come back here right away.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam made a grimace of pure disappointment and stamped his foot on the ground.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>But I’m bored! I want to go see the lights!” he exclaimed, pointing his finger at the hidden square.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Somehow, his father's posture became even more rigid.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Y</em><em>oung b</em><em>oy</em><em>, if I’</em><em>ll</em><em> have to repeat myself again, I’</em><em>m going to</em><em> come there. And you won't like it.”</em></p>
<p><em>Only then did the child surrender to h</em><em>is</em> <em> absence of choices. Focusing on the ground and wearing </em> <em>his </em> <em>special occasions </em> <em>pout</em><em>, he marched again until he reached the rest of h</em><em>is</em> <em> family, kicking around small piles of snow </em> <em>in the meantime</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>It's not fair,” he s</em><em>norted</em><em> once his mother crouched in front of him to fix the woolen cap on his head, cover his ears </em><em>better </em><em>and remove a few l</em><em>ocks</em><em> of hair </em><em>away from</em><em> his eyes.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Mary gave him an affectionate smile.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Now we’</em><em>re </em><em>choos</em><em>ing</em><em> the Christmas tree and then we </em><em>are </em><em>all go</em><em>ing</em><em> to see the lights </em><em>together</em><em>, okay? And we </em><em>are</em><em> also get</em><em>ting</em><em> a nice hot chocolate, I </em><em>promise</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Still disappointed by the tragic end of his wandering, Sam merely nodded grumpily. At least his father did not return to the subject, except to entrust him with a worthy jailer.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Dean, stay with your brother while your mom and I </em><em>finish</em><em> here. You </em><em>must not</em><em> wa</em><em>nder off</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p><em>The </em> <em>boy</em><em>, proud of his almost eleven years </em> <em>of age,</em> <em> n</em><em>odded</em> <em> and approached his little brother.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"Give me your hand, Sammy," he said firmly, holding out his own wrapped in a glove.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Sam grimaced, still offended by the reprimand h</em> <em>e had had to bend to</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I don’t want to.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>You heard what Dad said,” Dean insisted.</em></p>
<p><em>He</em> <em> ha</em><em>d</em> <em> always been a great supporter of h</em><em>is father’s</em> <em> w</em><em>ord</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Dad is never happy.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Neither boy realized the shadow of displeasure that passed over John Winchester's face at those words, because the man remained focused on the last specimen of fir tree that his wife was pointing to.</em>
</p>
<p><em>"Even if he's not happy, you have to be good," the e</em><em>ldest</em> <em> persevered. “</em><em>D</em><em>on't </em> <em>you </em> <em>want </em> <em>your hot </em> <em>chocolate?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"Yes, I do," Sam muttered in a whimpering tone.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Finding him irresistibly funny and feeling a momentum of solidarity towards him, Dean smiled before crouching down on the ground and starting to accumulate snow at his feet.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Then help me, come on. Let's make a fort.”</em></p>
<p><em>For a moment, Sam stood </em> <em>there, </em> <em>staring dumbfounded at the first, tiny wall that his brother was working to erect. </em> <em>He then frowned </em> <em>like every time the logic of things didn't a</em> <em>ppear clear</em> <em> to him.</em></p>
<p>“<em>But it's too small!”</em></p>
<p>“<em>It's a fort for gnomes. For gnome p</em><em>uppies,”</em><em> Dean explained seriously. In other circumstances, he would have rolled his eyes and maybe even complained about his brother’</em><em>s fussiness</em><em>, but his father had given him a task and Dean knew Sam's limits. When he was already outraged, the slightest spark was enough to get him f</em><em>uming</em><em>. A bit like </em><em>D</em><em>ad. “So, a</em><em>re you helping</em><em> me or not? If you d</em><em>o it</em><em> too, we can make it bigger.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Eventually Sam surrendered, collapsing with his knees on the ground without admitting that he was tempted by the idea of building the fort – luckily, Mary, foresighted as she was, had dressed both children as if they were about to go skiing. She knew them well enough to know that they would not have missed even the slightest chance of rolling in the snow.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Dean and Sam had been shaping the heaps of snow in their ideas </em> <em>of battles </em> <em>between gnomes for less than five minutes when the eldest</em><em>, raising his head from the ground for the fourth time, realized he could no longer locate his mother's blonde hair. The small groups of people surrounding him and his brother were numerous, but none h</em><em>ad</em> <em> his parents </em> <em>inside</em><em>. Dean </em> <em>then</em> <em> jumped to his feet, feeling his heart begin to p</em><em>ound</em> <em> in his chest.</em></p>
<p>“<em>M</em><em>o</em><em>m?” he called several times, looking around anxiously while Sam, at his feet, mimicked an attack of elves, complete with a soundtrack, and began to d</em><em>emolish</em><em> the poor fort with his elbows. Dean paid no attention to it and started looking around, feeling the blood flow from his face as the seconds passed and no one answered his calls. “</em><em>Mom</em><em>? </em><em>Dad?”</em></p>
<p><em>He had to move at least fifteen meters away and check behind a small group of l</em><em>aughing</em> <em> teenagers to s</em><em>tart breathing</em> <em> again. In </em> <em>a </em> <em>hurry </em> <em>as he was</em><em>, he ended up crashing into his father's side, with the result that his mother noticed him immediately, as well as his shortness of breath and his face as white as a sheet.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Dean,” she said in an alarmed tone, bending down to put one hand on one of his cheeks and feel his forehead with the back of the other. “Honey, what is it?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Dean felt like drowning in relief now that he had found them.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I... I thought I had lost you, I...” he was stammering when a sudden realization made his eyes widen. “Oh no.”</em></p>
<p><em>The boy turned abruptly at the s</em> <em>ame time</em> <em> the doubt t</em><em>ickled</em> <em> John Winchester's senses.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Where is your brother?”</em></p>
<p><em>Where he and his brother had played, only the </em> <em>sad</em> <em> remains of the glorious fort of the gnome cubs w</em><em>ere still standing</em><em>. The elves had won </em> <em>the battle </em> <em>and Sam h</em><em>ad disappeared</em> <em>. It was with death in h</em><em>is</em> <em> eyes that Dean returned his gaze to his father.</em></p>
<p><em>"I lost Sammy," he m</em><em>urmured</em> <em> in horror, barely audible.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>The reaction was immediate and John Winchester growled a couple of those words that he and his wife had promised never to say in front of the children.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I </em><em>had </em><em>told you to keep an eye on him!” </em><em>h</em><em>e then b</em><em>urst</em><em> out, g</em><em>iving</em><em> his eldest son </em><em>a stern look </em><em>while Mary began t</em><em>he search nearby and started calling</em><em> Sammy's name o</em><em>ver and over</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>But I...” </em><em>Dean</em><em> protested weak</em><em>ly</em><em>, making himself small</em><em>er</em><em> under his fatherly glances while his eyes filled with tears. “I </em><em>couldn’t see</em><em> you anymore, I didn't know where you h</em><em>ad gone</em><em>, I got scared...”</em></p>
<p><em>"You should have brought him with you," his father continued to scold him, grabbing him by the arm to make him walk while he himself followed Mary's n</em><em>ervous</em> <em> steps. “How many times </em> <em>do </em> <em>I n</em><em>eed</em> <em> to repeat the same things to you?”</em></p>
<p><em>"John," his wife, who had had enough, </em> <em>intervened</em><em>. </em> <em>O</em><em>ne of their children </em> <em>was </em> <em>missing and her husband </em> <em>was </em> <em>wasting time scolding the other one? </em> <em>Nonsense. “</em> <em>He was scared. It’s not his fault that we m</em><em>oved</em> <em>.”</em></p>
<p><em>Mr. Winchester n</em><em>eeded</em> <em> only one glance to t</em><em>ake the hint.</em></p>
<p>“<em>We'll talk about it later,” he agreed, and then w</em><em>ent</em><em> back to Dean with forced calm: “Where did your brother want to go </em><em>again</em><em>?”</em></p>
<p><em>In the meantime, Sam had passed the booth t</em><em>hat was selling</em> <em> Christmas trees, including the small </em> <em>attached </em> <em>artificial forest, and had reached the coveted little square. There </em> <em>were </em> <em>the houses that offered all kinds of decorations, candles and jewelry mixed indiscriminately with those that gave off scents of cinnamon and hot cakes. All were indistinctly illuminated by day with internal lamps, street lamps and festively decorated trees. But Sam, as Mary used to write in her diaries, had a peculiar interest in </em> <em>everything that looked or sounded</em> <em> different. Once he had identified an isolated stall slightly separated from the others, next to an oak </em> <em>which was </em> <em>adorned with the most wonderful illuminations he had ever seen – </em> so gentle lights, just like fairy nests<em>, he would have told his mother that </em> <em>same </em> <em>evening –, there was no more </em> <em>room </em> <em>in his mind for anything else.</em></p>
<p><em>The boy trotted to the s</em><em>tand</em><em>, skill</em><em>fully slipping through the people who crowded the markets, and stopped in front of it with his mouth open in front of the huge amount of books placed on the wooden shelf. His school had a small library and every now and then his mother took h</em><em>im</em> <em> to the library, but everything seemed full of magic under t</em><em>hose</em> <em> Christmas lights. Sam was only in first grade, but everyone in h</em><em>is</em> <em> family had already understood what a passionate reader he would </em> <em>have </em> <em>become over the years.</em></p>
<p><em>On tiptoes, he was leaning over to get a better view of the f</em> <em>raway</em> <em> covers when the elderly gentleman beyond the counter noticed the bundled </em> <em>up m</em><em>unchkin</em> <em> that was eating his volumes with his eyes and let out a pleased laugh.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Do you like books, l</em><em>ittle one</em><em>?” he asked, and Sam considered his face complete with a white beard before deciding he could trust </em><em>him </em><em>enough to nod. The man considered those attentive eyes for a few seconds, then reached a booklet on his right and checked the title before offering it to Sam. “Here, take t</em><em>his</em><em>. I </em><em>think you might like it.”</em></p>
<p><em>Sam started to reach out, but he stopped </em> <em>almost immediately</em><em>, biting his lip as he r</em><em>eplied</em> <em> to the street vendor's smile with a distressed grimace.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"I have no money," he mumbled.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The man's smile did not waver in the least. If anything, it intensified.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>It doesn’t</em><em> matter. It's a gift. I</em><em>t’s</em><em> almost Christmas or am I wrong?”</em></p>
<p><em>After a moment of surprise, the </em> <em>little </em> <em>boy finally accepted the booklet. He brought it close to his chest, turned it slowly so that it did not slip on the rough fabric of h</em><em>is</em> <em> gloves and moved his lips as he read the title: “</em> <em>White Fang”</em> <em>. Opening it, he discovered that it was written in capital letters, ideal for those who have just learned to read.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Thank you!” </em><em>he e</em><em>xclaimed enthusiastically, then h</em><em>e studied</em><em> the elderly man with h</em><em>alf closed eyelids</em><em>: “Are you Santa?”</em></p>
<p><em>The m</em><em>an</em> <em> laughed </em> <em>heartily</em><em>, a warm laugh that p</em><em>unched</em> <em> the steam that escaped his lips.</em></p>
<p><em>"No. But I'm a great friend of h</em><em>is</em><em>," he assured, winking. A moment later, the couple who had stopped to look at the books not far from Sam w</em><em>alked</em> <em> away arm in arm, whereupon the man changed his expression and turned to his little admirer in a questioning tone: “But where are your parents?”</em></p>
<p><em>Sam, all taken by the f</em><em>irst sentences</em> <em> of the s</em><em>implified version of “White Fang”</em><em>, did not look up, but merely raised his arm to lazily indicate the designated position for the sale of fir trees.</em></p>
<p>“<em>They are buying the tree.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>The seller didn't even have time to suggest that they started looking for them, because a couple of seconds later he noticed that a blonde woman was running towards them, followed closely by a man and a child.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Sam! Sammy!”<br/></em></p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks to everyone leaving kudos and following this story.<br/>I can't wait to read your opinions about this "childish" chapter :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Hot chocolate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>If the man had a dark expression on his face, the woman had a terrified look that mirrored that of the blond boy following her. That look on the woman’s face only turned into relief once she knelt in front of the smallest boy standing there and held him close to her in a rush of pure despair, making sure that nothing had happened to him. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "Oh my God," she sighed, allowing herself a few more instants of hugging with her eyes closed before moving back and taking Sam's face in her hands. “Why did you take off like that? You scared me to death!” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam, still all focused on his new book, did not even perceive his mother's apprehension. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Mom, look, isn’t it nice?” he sang instead, showing her the volume.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>At that point his father – who, Sam noticed, had his typical Monday morning face on – left Dean's side and joined his wife's to freeze his youngest son with a single icy glance.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Put it back," he ordered dryly, nodding towards “White Fang”.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Sam hugged it in an outraged move. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>But my friend gave it to me!”</em></p>
<p>
  <em> There was something, in John Winchester, that made perfectly clear, even to a child, the precise moment when his patience reserves scraped the bottom of the barrel. It was probably all about the flash of light that seemed to pass behind his eyes. The flash that, at six years old, Sam already dared to ignore. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>You don't deserve it at all, given the way you are behaving today,” his father decreed, snatching the volume from his hand and then turning to the street vendor and extending the book, deaf to Sam's immediate complaints.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Don't scold him, please,” the man asked him, offering a cordial look at Mr. Winchester's altered one. “With all these candy and toys around, he came straight to my book stand. Your son is a consolation for an old bookseller like me,” he explained, with a grateful smile. “Let him keep the book, please. A child who appreciates reading is a small miracle nowadays.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em> Since the bookseller did not want to take the volume, John found himself forced to hand it back to his son to close the matter, sighing heavily. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Take it,” he ordered when Sam's reaction was to remain motionless on the spot, observing him from below with his face frowning with suspicion. “And thank this gentleman.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em> "Thank you," Sam murmured, returning to press the booklet to his chest before giving a sincere smile to the bookseller. “Then I will come back here and tell you how much I liked it.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The man with the thick white beard winked at him.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I'm counting on it.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em> His father did not give him any more time to say goodbye or to enjoy the feeling of having received the best gift ever. Suddenly he took him by the arm, as he had done with Dean a few minutes earlier, and led him as far away from the crowd as possible, with Mary and their eldest son following immediately behind. They were on the edge of the square inside which the speakers kept playing Christmas classics when John finally stopped and put an end to Sam's whining by turning him over and giving him a single, resolute spanking . </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The boy whimpered at the impact, but then fell silent, realizing that it was not convenient for him to push his luck. Both he and his brother were aware that, if only they had been at home and Dad had lost his temper as in that moment, Sam would have got a serious, well deserved and much longer spanking. However, the little boy could not do anything so that his eyes did not fill with tears. His father paid no attention to that and turned him back with a single firm movement of his arms, crouching and holding him still in front of him to force Sam to keep his eyes on him. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>What had we told you? What had I told you to do?” he asked strictly.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam bit his lip and sniffed.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Stay close. But...”</em></p>
<p>“<em>There is no but, Sam. Anything could have happened to you. You could have got lost or hurt, you understand that? Someone could have taken you. When I give you an order, you follow it, period. And you don't argue with your father, least of all when you know you've misbehaved.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em> Mary's voice emerged from a few steps away. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>John...”</em></p>
<p>“<em>No, Mary. He must learn to do as we say,” her husband stopped her at once. As soon as Sam looked down, John put two fingers under his chin and raised his face for the little boy to return to his eyes. “Don't try to wiggle your way out of this. You gave me and your mother a big scare.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam ran a hand under his nose and clung to his blue scarf, struggling against the knot in his throat.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I’m s-sorry.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>You must never do this again, you hear me?” his father persevered.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Placed in a corner, Sam nodded and worked up the courage to ask: “Am I- am I grounded now?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> John breathed deeply, exchanging an eloquent glance with his wife. There were a few days left before Christmas and the presents for Dean and those for Sam were ready to be unwrapped, hidden well on the bottom of the top shelf of the laundry closet, waiting for Santa to arrive. Grounding Sam at that time would have meant preventing him from enjoying his new toys for at least a week, not to mention having a sad child on Christmas day. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "No, you’re not," John said finally. “But next time...” he sighed, interrupting himself, because it was evident that any more threats would have been equal to pure malignity, given that Sam was already aware of the consequences. This is why his father opted to end it quickly: “You better behave. Or you won't get a way with it so easily.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The little boy nodded quickly, then waited for his father to get back on his feet to look beyond and intercept Mary's restless eyes . </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "Sorry, Mommy," he said in a broken voice, still shaken by the scolding, wringing his own fingers . </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> His mother melted like a snowflake under the sun. A smile trembled on her lips and she crouched down before spreading her arms in Sam's direction. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Come here, little o</em><em>ne</em><em>. You too,” </em><em>s</em><em>he added in Dean’</em><em>s direction. The youngest looked</em><em> equally upset by what had just happened. Once her children had approached her, she squeezed them both, with one arm for each </em><em>one</em><em>, and every residual drop of fear slipped away from her body when she felt them cling to her back with t</em><em>heir little</em><em> gloved hands. “We got a </em><em>bit of</em><em> a fright, huh? It happens. Everything’s alright. All right,” </em><em>s</em><em>he repeated like a soothing mantra, rubbing their backs.</em></p>
<p>
  <em> It wasn't long before Mr. and Mrs. Winchester realized that the promised snack could have been an excellent distraction, a quick and pleasant method to bring the whole family back into the light Christmas atmosphere of that afternoon. Just like the one they had planned to enjoy, when they had left the house with the children well dressed from head to toe. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> So it happened that Sam and Dean found themselves following their mother in search of a free table at one of the food stands – the little Winchesters liked that one the most because the tables were shaped like barrels, like in a pirate lair or in a tavern of the past – while John went to the kiosk that announced the availability of every Christmas specialty, from cinnamon fritters to eggnog, to fulfill his children’s desire. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Did Dad scold you too?” Sam asked suddenly, since in the meantime he had noticed Dean's long face. When his older brother nodded, Sam frowned: "Why?"</em></p>
<p>
  <em> "Because I had to keep an eye on you," Dean grunted. “And you disappeared .” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"It's a stupid thing," Sam decided after thinking about it for a few seconds.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He understood that he had m ade his parents worry by wandering around on his own, but he didn't see how his brother could have stopped him or why he should have been his responsibility. But given that Dean seemed to be f eeling bad and Sam was only six years old, the youngest chose to resolve the issue by throwing his arms around his brother's neck, while Dean took place where indicated by his mother. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Sorry, Dee. I didn't mean to,” Sam muttered into the other’s scarf. “Can you forgive me?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em> Dean put his hands on his shoulders and released himself from the hug quite roughly , but Sam calmed down by seeing his lips folding in one of his smart smiles. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Already did. Stupid,” Dean teased him, lowering Sam’s cap over his eyes in a single motion.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam put it back in place as he groped on the free stool between the one which Dean had climbed on and that of his mother, then sat down with a slight thump.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"I'm not stupid," he protested faintly, annoyed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Don't even start, you two," warned John Winchester, just back with two steaming mugs, which he carefully placed in front of each of his children. “Here, drink your hot chocolates. Would you like any more milk in it?”</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Yes! Milk!” Sam exclaimed enthusiastically, first to raise his arm.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Dean nodded with downcast eyes, fiddling with the handle of his mug.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Yes, please," he murmured.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "I'm going to get it then ," John said, then smiled as he turned to his eldest son, drawing his attention by placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you coming with me, Deano?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The amazement on Dean's face was canceled in the instant when the child returned that smile and then walked away trotting alongside his father. A few minutes later, when they both returned, John was holding a small pot of hot milk and Dean sported, in addition to two punches full of sugar sachets, a completely different expression. Happy, proud as every time his father reassured him that he hadn't disappointed him. And even though Sam was too young to notice those details, that show warmed Mary's heart. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Yay! Milk and sugar! Thanks, Dean, thanks, Dad!” Sammy burst out, breaking the quick kiss between the parents to reach out to the milk jug.</em></p>
<p>
  <em> Mary served him before he could spill every last drop on the table and at the same time she gave her husband an amused look. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>He recovers from reproaches fast."</em></p>
<p>“<em>A little too fast, if you ask me," John Winchester said with a hint of exasperation. Then he lifted Sam, took his place and put him sitting on his knees. He knew he could not have done it for much longer, given the rate at which Sam was growing, and he intended to treasure every occasion. “Come here, you little brat. Let me sit next to the saint your brother is.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em> Settling himself better, Sam broke away from his mug of hot chocolate and did not lose the exchange of smiles between his brother and his father. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Why is Dean a saint?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Because he has the thankless task to look after you. And you slip away like an eel.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>I'm not an eel!”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Oh? Are you really, really sure about that?” John pretended to look surprised, winking in Dean’s direction while Sam nodded resolutely. “But look how good you are at slipping!”</em></p>
<p>
  <em> Mary made sure that both mugs of chocolate were out of reach when her husband began subjecting Sam to a relentless tickling session. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Aaah, Dad! No, stop, stop, stop, stop!”</em></p>
<p>
  <em> Sam's delighted shrieks caught the attention of the people around them, but none of the Winchesters paid any attention to those curious eyes. The laughter of the whole family made the chill air shine with joy and for all of them that would have been a happy memory. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam went back to reality with a deep breath. It was dark, so it must had been about five in the afternoon. The little girls with candy in their hands were gone, but the illuminated oak was still there. Sam let out a trembling sigh, thinking of the book stall he could no longer see anywhere. He hoped that the old bookseller who had given him “White Fang” was still alive and somewhere warm, with his volumes.</p>
<p>Suddenly, with his heart swollen with memories, Sam wished he had never spit on his brother words as harsh as those that Dean had heard from the person he cared about most in the world. If there was anything that John Winchester had been able to teach both of his children before his relationship with Sam failed it was loyalty, mutual respect.</p>
<p><em>Maybe </em> <em>I can still make it on time</em>, Sam thought, looking up at the clock of the nearest bell tower.</p>
<p>Perhaps Dean could still have forgiven him, if not with the ease of when they were children, with the maturity that Sam had not been able to offer earlier.</p>
<p>Sam got to his feet. He was about to start walking towards Hawthorne Lane when his pocket vibrated. The boy reached into it and pulled out his cell phone. The screen had lit up.</p>
<p>
  <em>Luc: 1 message.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ta-da!</p>
<p>No, I just couldn't give you nothing but warm memories. I'm too much of a sucker for drama.</p>
<p>Please keep the faith. And take care, always.</p>
<p>I would love to read your thoughts about the chapter :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. The best gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was just after 6 p.m., inside apartment 16 of number 229, Hawthorne Lane. Castiel had returned from his errands almost an hour earlier, only to find that the plan had gone, as Dean kindly specified, to shit and that his husband was on the verge of a massive nervous breakdown.</p>
<p>Sam had left the house and never come back. Castiel was burdening himself with all the blame he could think of, while Dean, sitting on the sofa with his head in the palms of his hands, was impervious to Mary's consoling attempts.</p>
<p>“I don't know what to do anymore, Mom. I'm afraid and I don't know, I don’t know anymore...” Dean was stammering, when the click of the front door lock made everyone turn in that direction. "Sam," Dean exhaled, struggling to his feet as he recognized his brother’s tall figure crossing the threshold. “I thought... I thought you were...”</p>
<p>Once the door was closed behind him, Sam walked over to study his brother's face. His eyes were puffy, he must have been crying, but Sam was too tired to feel anything more than a pang in his stomach at that sight. He had been walking all the way back, in the mid-calf carpet of snow covering the city, and the result was that he felt exhausted, wet and cold.</p>
<p>“I know how important tonight is to you and Cas,” he just said, and then got rid of his boots and coat and put them to dry next to the pellet stove.</p>
<p>Sam knew what Dean had just refrained from saying: he believed he had already run back to Luc by now. In an attempt to deal with the dismay with which his brother, his mother and Castiel were bombarding him, he pulled his hair back with one hand and headed straight for another escape route.</p>
<p>“Do I have enough time to take a shower?”</p>
<p>Dean moved his lips in vain for a couple of seconds, fighting his own astonishment. Then he nodded.</p>
<p>“I... the Novaks haven’t arrived to the hotel yet. They won't be here before an hour or two.”</p>
<p>"Great," Sam said.</p>
<p>Five seconds later, the bathroom door was already closing behind him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Novaks all arrived together – nine people altogether, including Castiel's nephew and nieces – and did not leave until after midnight, despite the fact that the time for presents had been widely anticipated due to the sleepiness of the youngest members of the family. The apex of the evening for the adults, however, was certainly not the gifts.</p>
<p>Dean and Castiel got up once fruit salad time was almost over, when everyone was by now full and satisfied, to announce the adoption that would have taken place a few months in the new year. Later, Sam would not have remembered exactly what the reaction of each of those present was. Of course, Eileen's was unforgettable – the woman almost jumped into her brother's arms out of joy – and everyone had the opportunity to make fun of Mary for the emotion wetting her eyelashes and to be amazed at the sincere hug in which Michael held Dean. Rumor had it that it was the first. But the others? Sam, for example, didn't know how Castiel's parents had reacted. He was already distracted at that point. More than that, he was like going into a trance. He felt the same tiredness as Holly, Eileen's two-year-old daughter, who had fallen asleep on the couch clutching her new stuffed panda bear before even touching dessert.</p>
<p>Once the guests returned to their hotel – not before promising to meet again the next day for a lunch outside the house – everyone agreed that they could have cleaned and tidied up the apartment after a few hours of well deserved sleep. Since everyone was too tired to take Mary to the bed and breakfast she had booked, Sam helped her find a place for her luggage in the guest room and said goodnight before heading back to the hall. Before he could even think of what path his footsteps were following, he found himself on the doorway of Dean and Castiel's bedroom. The door was open and the warm light from one of the lampshades illuminated the room.</p>
<p>Sam had barely peeked in when his brother's weary gaze fell on him.</p>
<p>“Is Mom sleeping?”</p>
<p>Dean had changed his clothes. Once he had ditched the fine pants and shirt reserved for the fortunately few encounters with his in-laws, he was now wearing a pair of sweatpants and a short-sleeved, worn out white shirt and was sitting cross-legged on what Sam imagined to be his side of the bed. He too had always chosen the right side.</p>
<p>"Hm-hm," Sam confirmed, absently biting his lips. “Where is Cas?”</p>
<p>"When we realized that you were going to give Mom the guest room, he preceded me and moved to the sofa," Dean explained impassively. In fact, he was studying every comma on his younger brother's face. “He noticed that you never sit there. He doubted you’d be able to get any sleep on it.”</p>
<p>"It's uncomfortable," Sam cut it off. Then, driven by the need to change the subject quickly, he nodded toward the double bed. “So it's you and me?”</p>
<p>“Unless you want to sleep on the floor.”</p>
<p>Unwilling to take the bait on his provocation, Sam walked over to the mattress and slowly slipped under the sheets and covers. He realized that the light on was the one on the bedside table closest to him, so he turned it off before lying properly on the bed. He had just closed his eyes when he heard his brother’s voice again, shrouded in darkness.</p>
<p>“Sam?” he called, wary but curious. “Where have you been this afternoon?”</p>
<p>“At the Christmas market. Where Mom and Dad took us when we were little,” the twenty-six year old answered, strangely grateful for that question. “It reminded me of that time I ran away to reach the book stall. Do you remember?”</p>
<p>“I think I remember every single occasion I lost sight of you. And that was particularly memorable, as you were in your "I'll just cut and gleefully run away" phase.”</p>
<p>"Yes," Sam smiled, imagining his brother's raised eyebrows. “One of the best ways to make Dad mad, I think.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. You have always been a real specialist at that, from an early age. Sam?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Seeing you coming back tonight,” Dean swallowed, trying to lie down comfortably with his eyes focused on the ceiling, “was the best gift. Seriously.”</p>
<p>Sam stood still. His eyes were inexorably open now, even though all they had to stare at was the darkness.</p>
<p>“You'll be a good father, Dean,” he whispered after a few seconds. “You both will be.”</p>
<p>It took his brother less time than expected to recover and retort. Perhaps, after the initial blow, he had begun to get used to the fact that his family and Castiel's had already begun to picture him as a parent.</p>
<p>“I hope I will be. And I hope you will tell me when you think I'm acting like an asshole with my child.”</p>
<p>Sensing an ironic note, Sam smiled in return.</p>
<p>"You can be sure of that," he promised him. “Good night, Dean.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight, Sammy.”</p>
<p>They fell asleep quickly. Dean, in particular, succumbed so quickly to Morpheus's call that he did not even notice the feverish motion with which Sam re-read some messages on his cellphone before blocking it, placing it on the bedside table and making peace with the idea of sleeping despite his heart pumping blood and pure excitement. If only his older brother had known the content of those same messages, he too would have had a hard time getting a good rest, albeit for the opposite reason.</p>
<p>
  <em>From: Luc (4.57 p.m.)</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hello, Sam. I thought for a long time if it was appropriate to send you this message. If you are reading it now, it means that in the end I opted for a yes.</em>
</p>
<p><em>I trust you continued to receive my roses. I hope you were pleased, that they pushed you to reflect to reach my s</em><em>ame</em> <em> conclusion. I trust it happened. Because we work </em> <em>well </em> <em>together, Sam, in ways that are different, but that intertwine and fit together perfectly. It has been like this since our first night together, five months ago now.</em></p>
<p><em>Only I can give you what you need and you know it, Sammy. I'm sure your family will have tried to get </em> <em>you </em> <em>away from this awareness </em> <em>during </em> <em>these days </em> <em>we spent apart</em> <em> – he</em><em>ll</em><em>, maybe right now your brother is giving you one of his fucking l</em><em>ittle speeches</em><em>. Do you think I </em> <em>don’t remember</em> <em> how much you hate them? How tight </em> <em>t</em><em>hey </em> <em>feel </em> <em>on you? You can't live under that wing anymore, Sammy, you know </em> <em>that</em><em>. It's not your brother's, your brother-in-law's or your mother's rules that you want to learn to follow. Y</em><em>ou want to stay under my rules</em><em>. You feel comfortable there, under my control, I know. Oh, we both know that well. You like obey</em><em>ing</em> <em> me, pleas</em><em>ing</em> <em> me, almost as much as you like b</em><em>eing bad</em><em>. You even like my punishment</em><em>s</em><em>. You like g</em><em>etting put</em> <em> back in line, </em> <em>no matter the</em> <em> cost.</em></p>
<p><em>So do yourself a favor, Sammy: stop pretending. Stop trying to believe what your family wants you to believe, which is that you are nothing more than a poor naive </em> <em>boy who has </em> <em>fallen into the hands of a sadist. You asked for all this, you want it. And you know I'm the only one who can give you what you desperately need. Rules and consequences. Positive and negative. You love it when I take control, Sammy. And you suffer when I'm not there to tell you how to behave, to set specific limits, </em> <em>lines that, should you cross them, y</em><em>ou know what y</em><em>ou’ll get</em><em>. So ask yourself: why do you insist on resisting me? We love each other, Sam. We understand each other. T</em><em>he two of us</em> <em> can be forever, honey, and isn't that what you've always wanted?</em></p>
<p>
  <em>To: Luc (5.12 p.m.)</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Can we meet?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>From: Luc (5.16 p.m.)</em>
</p>
<p><em>T</em><em>hat’s all I ask, b</em><em>aby</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I particularly like when I can write some dialogue between Sam and Dean. But of course, once again, I couldn't leave you on a happy note, could I?<br/>I know I'm always here telling you to hold onto your good thoughts about this, but this time I mean it: next chapter could have something that is meant to cheer you up a little. So don't give up hope just now!<br/>And of course I would love to know you thoughts about this chapter.<br/>Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Jade and honey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It happened on a bright sunny day the likes of which nobody had seen for more than a week and Sam, sure as he was of the goodness of his decision, could only consider it a sign of fate. A clue placed there to announce that everything would have turned out for the best.</p>
<p>It was December 27<sup> th </sup> and he and Luc had arranged to meet in a bar in the city center at about four in the afternoon. This way, Sam could leave the house in unsuspicious hours, telling Dean and Cas that he would have used that beautiful day to see a friend. Once on the street, walking with his hands in his pockets and his mouth hidden behind the collar of his coat, Sam had found himself making excuses to himself, repeating to himself that he had not given his brother and brother-in-law a complete lie. That one thought was enough to make him feel like a teenager escaping parental boundaries, so he shook off his shame with a shiver.</p>
<p>He arrived early in front of the doors of <em>(Not) my cup of tea</em> – a cafe that after five in the afternoon adjusted to the alcoholic rhythms of the evening, transforming itself into a cocktail bar – and stopped outside, unaware of the chill that his agitation didn’t allow him to feel. Feeling the soles of his feet like stung by a thousand needles, he deceived the waiting and the beating of his heart by continuing to walk back and forth in front of the shop windows, wondering what the customers would have thought of him. He was about to move on the other side of the road, just to change, when he saw him.</p>
<p>Luc was approaching him from Saint Vincent Street. He wore a pair of his favorite dark jeans and a comfortable, smooth, storm-colored overcoat. He also wore the smug smile that still managed to make Sam feel unstable on his legs and the sure-footedness he saved for special occasions. When they were less than three meters away from each other, Luc spread his arms and soon welcomed Sam in a hug that the twenty-six-year-old hadn't realized he wanted ad needed to such a degree and in which he lost himself with gratitude.</p>
<p>“Sammy,” Luc sighed close to his ear, squeezing him with the same passion with which the youngest squeezed his eyelids, about to cry. "I missed you, sweetheart," he confided in a caressing voice, rubbing his back with his hand. He had to be the one to loosen the embrace and he did so carefully, holding a hand just under Sam's shoulder as he motioned to him: “Shall we go inside?”</p>
<p>Sam just nodded before following him past the cafe threshold. He heard a cheery ringing over the door and the festive salute from one of the girls beyond the bar counter, but he didn't raise his head. He followed Luc's footsteps without taking his eyes off the floor and took his place on the padded bench that surrounded the table chosen by his boyfriend in silence, immediately fixing his gaze on the shiny wooden surface on which he shyly rested his palms.</p>
<p>“So, aren’t you gonna say anything?” Luc urged him, peering at his face in an attempt to be considered by those eyes. A young waitress dressed in black trousers, a white shirt and a biscuit-colored apron had just walked away with a request for two cups of coffee written on her notebook. A decision made by Luc that Sam had not even thought of opposing to, lost as he was behind his thoughts. “It worries me when I see you like this, sugar. What happened in these past few weeks? Did they sever your vocal cords by dint of scolding you like a disobedient child? I can imagine what the main topic was.”</p>
<p>Finally, Sam found the strength and courage to lift his head. Luc was playing around with the small jar-shaped container of sugar and studied his first move with a curious gaze.</p>
<p>"I missed you too," Sam finally managed to declare, with the feeling that every word was clawing to the walls of his throat. He was finding it particularly difficult to hold back tears, especially now that he was looking Luc straight into those serious eyes of his. “And I wanted to tell you that... I know.”</p>
<p>Luc put away the sugar and frowned.</p>
<p>“You know? What do you know?”</p>
<p>“I know why that happened. I know why you lost your mind that night,” Sam swallowed, struggling not to go back to staring at the floor as he quoted the contents of the messages he had reread ad nauseam. “I know it's my fault.”</p>
<p>Around them, the other customers of the cafe were chatting animatedly, surrounding them with an atmosphere which was suffused with joy and clashed hard against the awkward chords of his whining plea for forgiveness. Sam felt awful. He was about to start stammering incoherent phrases when the waitress brought the coffees, forcing him to stop. A moment later, Luc prevented him from returning to that miserable path by silencing him gently, reaching out to take his hand. Sam felt like his heart could explode.</p>
<p>“Listen, Sammy,” he then began gravely, licking his lips. “I want you to make an effort for me. Can you make an effort for me?”</p>
<p>“S-sure.”</p>
<p>Luc smiled amiably.</p>
<p>“Then forget what happened three weeks ago. Delete it. I’m asking you, please.”</p>
<p>Those words were enough to tie Sam's arguments together.</p>
<p>“But...”</p>
<p>“I want you to forget all the thoughts that you have cultivated about your faults. Make sure that I can forget everything too and let's start over from where we left off, okay? I can't see you like this,” Luc persevered, shaking his hand and reaching out to bring it to his lips. “I want my Sammy back. I want you back home with me.”</p>
<p>As blinding as the joy of hearing that acquittal come out of Luc's mouth had been, Sam felt the initial enthusiasm burn in front of that conclusion, no matter how obvious.</p>
<p>“Luc, I'd love to. I really want to, but...”</p>
<p>“What?” the other one snapped, withdrawing. “Your brother is involved, isn't he? Your brother is always fucking involved.”</p>
<p>“Dean is constantly worried for me,” the younger man explained with a sigh, observing Luc with the caution of those who fear the onset of a storm. “If I leave home, in the state in which he is now...”</p>
<p>Luc blurted out without letting him finish: “Oh, is <em>that</em> your home now?”</p>
<p>"Try to understand," Sam pleaded, feeling his stomach hit by Luc’s disappointment. “He would go crazy, and so would Cas. God, both already are, sometimes. You don't know how they tried to keep me away from you or even just convince me they're right about you. They accuse you of everything.”</p>
<p>Ignoring the coffee and everything around them, it was his turn to stretch out his hand in the direction of those of his boyfriend. But Luc did not let himself be flattered by the caresses of his fingers and answered coldly.</p>
<p>“How should this make me feel better?”</p>
<p>"I want to be with you," Sam assured him using the tone of a veritable oath, already fearing to see him take back the second chance he had just offered. “I'm just asking you for some time to fix things. A compromise, for a short time only. Only until the situation settles, only until...”</p>
<p>“So what would you propose in the meantime? That we meet secretly in a motel when those two are at work, like kids at their first hand job?”</p>
<p>Although there was hatred in his voice, Sam smiled at him.</p>
<p>“It's an idea,” he admitted, shrugging. “Don't you think you might like it anyway? Motels or not, we’d have everything we need. We could do anything.”</p>
<p>Luc listened to him, this time without interrupting him. Then he turned his head and pulled his lips into a painful grimace.</p>
<p>“Holy shit.”</p>
<p>“What?” Sam asked, frowning.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Luc reassured him. His suffering face had quickly turned into a wary grin. “I had almost forgotten how you manage to turn me on even just with a smile, Sammy boy.”</p>
<p>Sam felt his cheeks heat up and wondered what had come to his mind when he had thought that wearing his cornflower-colored sweater that day would have been a good idea. Pure Irish wool did not agree at all with the emotions that Luc used to arouse in him, he should have remembered that. He was just taking it off to stay in his shirt when the call of an unknown voice reached him as if from a distance, a set of high and low notes muffled by the thick layer of yarn he was getting rid of.</p>
<p>“I'll be damned if that's not Luc Benson's big head.”</p>
<p>Sam came out from under his sweater in time to witness the amazement that made its way across Luc's face, just a moment before an unknown name was drawn on his lips.</p>
<p>“Gabe?” Luc ventured, turning to the voice at the same time as Sam did.</p>
<p>A boy had stopped two meters away from their table. A man, Sam corrected himself quickly. His height was deceptive, but he couldn't be much younger than Luc. He stood there, planted firmly on the ground with his legs apart, his hands in the pockets of his jeans and a wry smile on his face, which was framed by a neat beard and light brown hair. He had the expression of someone who knew a lot and enjoyed making people believe he knew even more, yet Sam's first reaction was not dislike. Perhaps it was because of the irresistible jubilation exclamation the newcomer performed as soon as Luc laid his eyes on him.</p>
<p>“It's really you!” he laughed, spreading his arms as Luc jumped to his feet under Sam's incredulous gaze.</p>
<p>It was rare to see him react as instinctively as he did.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe it! You son of a bitch!” Luc exclaimed joyfully, rushing to hug him. It was only a moment, however, nothing like the hug with which he had regained possession of Sam at the entrance of the cafe. He immediately returned to those laughing eyes: “What the fuck are you still doing in this dump of a city?”</p>
<p>“So much hatred for your motherland in your words, man,” Gabe said with a shrug, weaving words like a seasoned actor. “Maybe you forget that I have always enjoyed living here. And that I'm not enough of an idiot to bite the hand that feeds me.”</p>
<p>Luc laughed. He laughed as if riding a wave of pure exultation, he laughed as Sam had never heard him do.</p>
<p>"Christ, it's good to see you," he said, slapping his old acquaintance on the back.</p>
<p>“Ouch! Good to see you too, dear old butcher of my spine. I had forgotten that torture is your way of showing affection,” the golden brown-haired boy said.</p>
<p>Then, in the first calm moment since that sudden reunion had blossomed, he looked over Luc's shoulder and noticed Sam, who had been watching the exchange between the two with genuine interest. The twenty-six-year-old witnessed a complicated game of eyebrows that he would never have been able to replicate, but he was almost certain to read curiosity and an attempt at an apology in that.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” the man asked politely, making his gaze wander from Sam to Luc and back again.</p>
<p>Sam began to shake his head, shielding himself with an embarrassed smile: “Oh no, we...”</p>
<p>“You didn’t interrupt anything, don't be ridiculous,” Luc interposed, leading his friend to the table to make introductions. “Gabe, this is Sam, my boyfriend. Sam, Gabriel Hale. A colossal asshole to whom I probably owe my life.”</p>
<p>“Just probably?” Gabriel annoyed him, and then looked for Sam's eyes in the act of offering him his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Sam.”</p>
<p>As he shook his hand, Sam noticed that Gabriel's irises were the color of honey, but their mildness was interspersed here and there with hints of green. Or maybe they were just shades highlighted by his jade shirt.</p>
<p>“The pleasure is mine,” the twenty-six year old smiled, despite feeling scanned from head to toe.</p>
<p>"Jesus, Luc," Gabriel commented at the end of that careful study, with his lopsided grin growing to be more light-hearted than before. “I can see that all the bad luck you had with boys at school had to be repaid in one fell swoop,” he joked, nudging Luc's side before turning back to his new acquaintance with folded hands, as if in prayer. “Sam, as far as you are concerned, it pains me that you found yourself by this ugly face’s side. My deepest condolences. Have faith, don't stop looking, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.”</p>
<p>Sam parted his lips, not knowing what to say. Somehow, for some reason, those words spoken with absolute irony broke through him on a whole other level. If Sam could have peered inside with a lens, at that point he would have found out a tiny crack had crept between his certainties. It was nothing more than a trifle, a million light years away from true awareness. But some optimists around the world might have said it was a beginning.</p>
<p>Luc broke that moment with a laugh, urging his newfound friend to approach the free chair between his and the bench where Sam had sat.</p>
<p>“Stop talking shit about me and sit down,” he urged him. “You must have a drink with us.”</p>
<p>“I’d like that, old friend. I’d really like that,” Gabriel accepted willingly, letting himself fall into the free chair with a sigh and shaking his head in amazement. "Luc Benson," he repeated, as if to convince himself. “Who would have thought?”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had made a promise and finally I get to keep it: at last, Gabriel is here.<br/>He made it! He just made everybody wait for 21 little chapters ^^”<br/>I’m so curious: did you expect him to be Luc’s friend? Please let me know what you think about it and about the rest of the chapter too, since some parts of it may not be so easy to process and I get it.</p>
<p>P.S. Yes, I know we may never have seen Gabriel with a beard. But I have a thing for Richard Speight Jr with a beard. Yes, let’s just call it “a thing” and move on &gt;.&gt;</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Like it was yesterday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Once Gabriel and Luc were seated, there was no longer any way of interrupting the series of questions, re-enactments and quotes that they began to remind each other. Sam, who after twenty minutes during which he did not have the opportunity to pronounce a single syllable might have had the right to feel at least a little bit offended by the degree of involvement they were reserving him, was not even seized by the thought of being resentful. After all, his curious nature had just discovered a new source of entertainment.</p>
<p>Studying the way Luc and Gabriel interacted had aroused in him the fascination that the restart of a composite mechanism could inspire. An ancient mechanism, but still well-oiled enough not to allow it to perceive the weight of the years and of the dust deposited on its gears.</p>
<p>Remembering that he had once compared the relationship between Dean and Castiel to the working of a clock, however, Sam had to point out to himself that what was in front of him that day, at the <em>(Not) my cup of tea</em>, was different. Luc and Gabriel were very far from appearing as a romantic couple. They certainly did not emanate the proud and radiant feeling that belonged to Dean and Cas. Instead, it was something more complex to break down and analyze – the fact that those two were so dissimilar didn't help – but their chemistry was evident.</p>
<p>Or, at least, it was in Sam's eyes. Sam, who had always seen in Luc a mostly staid person, little inclined to manifestations of enthusiasm or laughter, and who now had his boyfriend in front of him in a whole different form. Transformed, or so it seemed, by the cheerful presence and the shrewd and sometimes hilarious sarcasm of that man who had come out of nowhere.</p>
<p><em>Gabriel Hale</em>, Sam repeated in his mind, trying to make the sound of that name roll on his tongue in yet another attempt to remember if Luc had ever mentioned it to him before.</p>
<p>“So, what do you do now?”</p>
<p>A new question from Luc caught his boyfriend’s attention too and Sam took advantage of the refuge offered by his huge cup of coffee to observe the features of his face and enjoy the very rare free joy that had been overflowing there since his old friend had joined them.</p>
<p>“I’m a clerk in a little store,” Gabriel replied with a mild smile, pouring the equivalent of a teaspoon of sugar on the palm of his hand and dipping his index finger in it before putting it between his lips as if it were a widespread and completely understandable coffee shop habit. Luc didn't seem to notice and Sam hid his amusement behind a sip of caffeine. “And before you get excited, the answer is no: it's not mine. I just work there.”</p>
<p>“God,” Luc commented with his usual professional bitterness, retreating towards the back of his chair with the expression of someone who has just recognized an insect squashed on his windshield. “I'm sorry, man.”</p>
<p>Gabriel laughed with a sincere cheerfulness that lifted Sam's soul and shook his head.</p>
<p>“I’m not, you snooty prick. I have a golden job, what do you think? I have a lot of retired gossips who flirt with me, although almost always on behalf of their daughters, nieces and granddaughters,” he said, keeping both his irony and his pride at bay with a raised eyebrow, even when Luc struggled to hold back his laughter and not to spit coffee all around. “What is there to laugh at? Can't believe I’m the dreamboat of an entire neighborhood? I have very respectable credentials.”</p>
<p>“Of course I don't have a hard time believing it,” Luc replied once he got a grip of himself, also thanks to the paper napkin that Sam handed to him discreetly. “But you will admit that, so that everything can fit together, we should omit a fundamental trait of your personality.”</p>
<p>Teased, Gabriel waved a hand in front of his face indolently, closing his eyes to emphasize his self-satisfied expression.</p>
<p>“Shh, they don't need to know that I've never even kissed a human being of the opposite sex, this is an insignificant detail for the purposes of the current negotiation. I am treated like a bijou, my dear, which means that I can also continue to pretend to be straight, at least until I begin to spot some clouds of painful consequences. Do you know how many bags of homemade cookies I got for Christmas this way? Tell me, why should I be so cruel as to deprive my clients of the joy of looking after me, when it is clear that their heart is lightened by a kilo for every pound that yours truly gains on his hips?” he flashed, winking in Sam’s direction when the boy, as the monologue finished, let out a grin. “But enough about the star of the show. Tell me about yourself, Luc. How are you doing?”</p>
<p>Luc shrugged, displaying a modesty that didn't belong anywhere near him.</p>
<p>“Quite well. I am a freelancer, I work as a business consultant for several companies. It's good, I have enough clients and they pay me fair.”</p>
<p>“Which, in your language, means you're making a shipload of money,” Gabriel considered calmly, without the slightest trace of envy. On the contrary, if only he had known him a little more, Sam could have confirmed that that on his face was genuine contentment. “In the end it was worth facing your black beast at college, huh? Economics has its perks.”</p>
<p>“I would say so, no matter how much sweat and blood I had to leave on those exams,” Luc agreed with a grimace, only to find a suitable excuse to change the subject. He looked around for a moment, then stood up resolutely: “The waiters here have lazy asses, I'm going to place our order at the counter. Any preferences?”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head and raised his cup to indicate that he was already busy enough on his mission to finish a coffee he hadn't asked for. Gabriel, on the other hand, quickly flipped through the bar menu and told Luc the name of a drink Sam had never heard of, before letting his friend venture to the coffee shop counter. For a couple of seconds more, Sam watched his boyfriend walk away with his usual confident pace, with the addition of the exultation that had not stopped infuriating in him since Gabriel's arrival.</p>
<p>"Well, wow," he let out his lips once Luc was out of reach.</p>
<p>That sound was enough for Gabriel to look up from the grains of sugar that had fallen on the table and to rest it on Sam, a new spark of curiosity just awakened in those warm-tinted eyes.</p>
<p>“Hm?”</p>
<p>“Oh, nothing, it's just that...” Sam tried to explain, taken aback, raising a hand to indicate the direction taken by Luc. “He has never told me anything about you, yet you two seem very close. I've never seen him so excited to see anyone.”</p>
<p>Gabriel snorted a hint of laughter.</p>
<p>“Apart from you, I guess,” he replied with the promptness that Sam was beginning to consider habitual, giving him one of his smart glances before returning to an affable smile that mitigated the youngest boy’s embarrassment. “What can I tell you, we were very good friends in high school. We had one of those bonds that I don't think get ever completely broken, even though we don’t keep in touch much these days. Not really.”</p>
<p>Struck by the first indiscretion about a past for which his hunger for knowledge was growing, Sam felt his imagination begin to gallop and could not help himself. On the other hand, Gabriel seemed so at ease every time he was given the opportunity to perform in one of his verbal labyrinths.</p>
<p>“Did the two of you…” Sam hazarded, lowering his voice. “ I mean, did you sleep together?”</p>
<p>The other boy’s reaction was immediate.</p>
<p>“What? Oh God, no!” he squeaked in disgust, before starting to laugh. “What an unhealthy idea.”</p>
<p>Sam made himself as small as he could, feeling a new rush of heat coming to his face.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” he muttered awkwardly, but Gabriel just smiled at the reddening of his cheeks.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, it's no problem. It's just that I find it comical that someone might be able to think of Luc and me together,” he reassured Sam, allowing himself to laugh at it for a while longer. “No, we've never seen each other like that, but we've been through a lot together. And by "been through", I mean we survived when we didn't even know if we would have managed to.”</p>
<p>That sentence nearly took Sam's breath away, but an instant later Gabriel's soothing smile was back there to keep him in a safe place, preventing him from asking too many questions all at once.</p>
<p>“This is what binds us together, I believe, and it’s not similar to any other friendship I've ever had. Who knows, maybe it's the same for Luc.”</p>
<p>Sam was choosing a suitable reply when the thud on the table of a glass filled with strawberry-red liquid made him jump. A moment later, Luc landed again in his chair, already halfway through the act of eagerly sipping his Rob Roy.</p>
<p>“Here's your faggy fruit juice,” he sighed then for Gabriel’s benefit and the other man happily pounced on his order.</p>
<p>“Thank you, darling,” Gabriel teased him, treading on the affectation of the name to counter the grimace of disgust that appeared on his friend's face.</p>
<p>“I don't know how you can even drink that stuff. Not even a child could do it, as sweet as it is.”</p>
<p>“In terms of sugar, I am much worse than a child, Luc. You should remember that,” Gabriel replied, attracted by the support of Sam's distracted smile. Sam, who never ceased to be surprised at the ease with which that man was able to silence even Luc. “In lean times, I need more sweetness. Leave me at least the food kind, in the absence of adorable boys to keep me company,” he then complained with his friend, raising his eyebrows in the wake of annoyance before performing a theatrical comedy snort. “That’s simply incredible, dreary he was and dreary he remained. Can you confirm that, Sam? Don't worry, you can confide everything to me. I think we could spend whole days exchanging complaints about this drama queen.”</p>
<p>Sam, meanwhile, was training to make his way through the fog of some of his verbal outings and forgot to give Luc time to defend himself.</p>
<p>“Are you single?” he found himself asking, trying to understand if he had understood correctly.</p>
<p>He realized that he had slipped into another embarrassment worthy alley as soon as he recognized the upward curve that Gabriel's lips were about to form.</p>
<p>“Oh, did you hear that, Luc? Your boyfriend just asked me if I'm single,” Gabriel then cackled in delight, enjoying a long sip of his strawberry alcohol-free drink before returning to annoy his old friend. “I like where this conversation is going.”</p>
<p>Poked once too many times, Luc blew and moved on the bench, next to Sam, to be able to put an arm around his waist. It was a gesture of protection mixed with jealousy, a bit like the kiss that Luc pressed on the shoulder of the twenty-six-year-old combined with the tightening of his fingers around his hip. Sam tensed, before relaxing, and a moment later he had already forgotten the initial annoyance caused by that contact.</p>
<p>"Sam's just curious," Luc said meanwhile, gulping down the rest of his drink.</p>
<p>Gabriel nodded serenely.</p>
<p>“That’s okay. Life is too short to afford not to be. Very single, Sam, unfortunately,” he answered calmly before his eyes returned to shine like those of a child at the sight of a playground. “Hey, you have to come over to my place for dinner! I could use a nice evening to relive the old days. And speaking of curiosity, I want to know everything about you two lovebirds. You haven't told me anything about your <em>histoire d’amour</em> yet,” he concluded with a wink that he reserved for Luc.</p>
<p>The latter went back to giggling with the lightness of a moment before and nodded heartily.</p>
<p>“Deal.”</p>
<p>Sam, on the other hand, was already busy not letting his agitation be perceived – was it doable? Or would accepting Gabriel's invitation have meant asking too much of the trust that Dean and Cas were willing to give him? After all, this was the first real outing he'd ventured into on his own after moving into their home. Wouldn't he risk letting them discover everything, and so soon?</p>
<p>Such thoughts were swirling in his mind when he realized that Gabriel was scrutinizing him with a worried expression on his face.</p>
<p>“Is that okay for you? If you don’t feel like it, it’s not a problem.”</p>
<p>“What? Of course he wants to come over,” Luc interjected at that point. He apparently had no intention of letting his boyfriend ruin his plans for the night. “Isn't that right, Sammy?”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Sam then confirmed mechanically, forcing a smile on for both of them. “I'll be happy to.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello, everybody!<br/>It took some time, but I can finally show you some more of my beloved Gabriel - and I could not be happier about that. I can't even say in words how much I enjoy writing about him, how happy I am he's here now *rainbows all over the place*<br/>Please, let me know your opinion about this chapter! And always, always take care.<br/>See you soon :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Kindred souls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>After struggling to find better alternatives, Sam ended up sending his brother a message using the first few words that came to his mind.</p>
<p>
  <em>To: Dean</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> I' ll be hanging out for a few more hours. Have dinner without me. </em>
</p>
<p>Being more cryptic would have meant risking Dean calling him and asking for further clarification. But, at the same time, too much haste in adding information would have made his brother suspicious. Eventually, Sam decided that keeping the straight and simple style of someone with nothing to hide would be the best solution.</p>
<p>It took them about ten minutes by car to get to Gabriel's apartment, and since Luc was the only one who hadn't reached the <em>(Not) my cup of tea</em> on foot, all three of them got into his Citroën SUV in order to get to the suburban area of Salisbury Willows.</p>
<p>Luc was also the only one who had had an alcoholic drink, but Sam obeyed his conservative instincts and refrained from proposing himself as a driver. He knew how fond Luc was of his role as a driver – as well as the unquestioned owner of a car he loved – and he didn't want to take the risk of being scolded in front of a stranger for such a trifle. So, as it happened to him more often than he realized, he preferred to keep quiet, taking his place in the passenger seat without making the slightest comment about Luc's idea of getting his first drink in the middle of the afternoon.</p>
<p>Gabriel's bachelor pad was on the ground floor of a building that could offer a maximum of four apartments and was so different from Luc's detached house, but totally agreed with Sam's first impression of the man.</p>
<p>Whereas the walls of Luc's house were of an immaculate white, whoever had painted the small rooms of Gabriel’s place had indulged in colors: leaf green for the tiny entrance, an autumn yellow embracing the living room, flashes of red on the kitchen furniture, a tanned parquet on the floors. In terms of furnishings, then, the style was closer to the lively and familiar one of Dean and Castiel’s house than to the strictly minimalist, dazzling and impeccable approach favored by Luc.</p>
<p>In the living room, for example, stood a bookcase with wooden shelves, high up to the ceiling and swollen with volumes of all kinds. The result was that Sam soon got lost among the titles, while Gabriel cooked as he had insisted on doing and Luc continued to retrace the adventures of the past with him, sprawled out on one of the sofas.</p>
<p>Sam recognized several classics, many plays, a few dystopian-inspired titles and an avalanche of books on the culinary arts of the five continents. Judging also by the aromas that soon began to arise from the wooden cutting boards and pots that had been arranged in the kitchen, Gabriel looked like he loved to test himself with countless recipes and inspirations of the moment.</p>
<p>Sam had just crouched down to browse through the CD collection on the side of the stereo that had been installed below the window, when the landlord’s voice invited him to be more daring.</p>
<p>“Way to go, Sam, great idea, we could use some music. Pick something you like, will you?”</p>
<p>Sam looked up just long enough to see that Gabriel was hopping from one side of the kitchen to the other and at the same time beating some eggs in a bowl, so he got to work. A few minutes later, Maggie Reilly's fairy voice began to sing on the first notes of <em>Moonlight Shadow</em>.</p>
<p>“Oh, nice!” Gabriel exclaimed, raising his face to the ceiling as if a wave of pleasure had just overwhelmed him. “Thank God you don't have your boyfriend’s same taste in music! I feared the arrival of his beloved Earth, Wind &amp; Fire. Those guys are like gone bad parsley: everywhere and annoying. Everyone take a seat, dinner’s ready in two minutes!” he trilled then, more to stifle Luc's objection than because he wanted to have order.</p>
<p>It was with a chuckle that Sam went to help Gabriel, bringing three glasses and a pitcher of the Mojito that the host had prepared – almost with his eyes closed – to the coffee table. Luc, who in the meantime had not moved from the sofa in which he had sunk, then motioned Sam to join him at his side and the boy obeyed in silence, now too at ease to remember on what premises that day had begun.</p>
<p>“Here we are. Dig in, guys,” Gabriel announced, placing in front of each of them an abnormal plate of carbonara with the addition of sautéed turnip greens. Sam and Luc were still letting themselves be flooded with that delicious aroma when the landlord took his place on the sofa opposite to them, put the first bite of pasta in his mouth and moaned shamelessly: “God bless Italy! And may Italy forgive me for my reinterpretations of its typical dishes. Come on, eat. Then, when you are comfortable, you may begin to provide some succulent details for Uncle Gabe. Such as, where did you guys meet? How? When? But most importantly, why the heck didn't I find Sam first?”</p>
<p>Gabriel's gab was like nothing else Sam had experienced before. The words seemed to be tumbling out of that boy's mouth, yet the end result was always, invariably, a funny artifact, not at all annoying or unpleasant even though it was composed of pure humor. As for the shame that could have turned red on Sam's cheeks at that last implicit appreciation, the boy dodged it by chance, too busy checking the message that had just made his cell phone vibrate.</p>
<p>
  <em>From: Dean</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Okay, have fun. Let us know if you need a ride home.</em>
</p>
<p>Sam heaved a sigh of relief and put the phone back in the back pocket of his jeans before Luc could scold him – every time Luc caught him fiddling with his smartphone in his presence he would get annoyed, considering it a basic rule as "you don't eat with your mouth open". Luckily for Sam, his partner was too busy at the time, stuffing carbonara into his mouth.</p>
<p>“Because you spend your Saturday nights on the sofa with that fur ball, I'm sure,” the blond replied to Gabriel’s question, immediately after swallowing.</p>
<p>Following the direction of his nod, Sam had his first contact with Gabriel's only roommate: a placid-looking red cat was wandering at the base of the stairs leading to the first floor. Unsure whether or not to approach the strangers who had invaded her living room, she was sniffing the air, looking for clues that would help her decide whether to trust them or not.</p>
<p>“An adorable fur ball, please,” Gabriel specified at that moment, turning to smile at the cat. “Isn't that right, Momo?”</p>
<p>In response, Momo let out a proud meow. Sam had just been touched by the thought that the two roommates looked alike, when he realized that the cat had gained enough courage and was now coming towards him with lithe steps. A few more seconds and the little, chubby creature began to rub against Sam’s legs with the obvious intention of getting to know him better.</p>
<p>“Look at that. How odd,” Gabriel said, and Sam looked up to find a genuinely surprised, devoid of sarcasm smile on his face. “She usually plays hard to get at least until the twelfth visit. The two of you must have kindred souls.”</p>
<p>“I like cats. As a child, I brought home a stray every week,” Sam shared, softening at the memory. Moving slowly, cautiously, he stretched his right hand down to pet Momo and was happy to hear her satisfied purr as the attention he focused on her intensified. “But my brother is allergic, so we never got to keep any. No matter how many tears I shed, my father made me take them back to the shelter that same day. But hello, Momo. You really are precious, you know that?”</p>
<p>Gabriel chuckled smugly: “She looks like she’s about to jump in your lap.”</p>
<p>At that moment Luc decided he had invested too much time on the cat of the house.</p>
<p>“Do you want to tell Gabe about our first meeting?” he proposed, and Sam felt his boyfriend’s free hand caress his thigh with something more than the simple tenderness that the gesture would have required.</p>
<p>“We met in a pub last August,” he satisfied him then, smiling again at Gabriel after nodding. “We were seated at two different tables, he was alone while I had company. At one point I saw a Sex on the beach arrive and I hadn't ordered any.”</p>
<p>“Oh no, that hurt! That hurt immeasurably,” Gabriel burst out at that point, making a grimace and putting a hand on his chest before throwing an indignant look at Luc. “Your same old approach, Luc, really? I can't believe you still have the courage to use that move, man. You are over thirty years old now, sweet Jesus, renew yourself.”</p>
<p>Sam, who was expecting at least a piqued reply from his boyfriend, had to change his mind as soon as Luc's Mojito-wet lips curved up arrogantly.</p>
<p>“Tell me again, which one of us is still single as of today, Gabe?”</p>
<p>Gabriel ignored him – it was evidently an art he had honed over time – and turned back to Sam for details.</p>
<p>“And did it work? Just like that, smoothly? Tell me it didn’t, Sam. Tell me you made him work for it.”</p>
<p>More amused than ever now that he had become part of that sparkling back and forth, Sam gave his boyfriend a wry smile.</p>
<p>“I don't know, would you say that I made you work for it?”</p>
<p>“For an hour or so,” Luc judged, emptying his glass with a last sip and reaching out to refill it before adding with evident satisfaction: “Before inviting me to his place. Straight to fourth base.”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay, okay. Have mercy on a poor derelict,” Gabriel surrendered, raising his hands to give up. “Well, what can I say? I'm happy for you, guys. I am green with envy, but happy that my old party partner is in a stable relationship with...” He waved his arms in Sam's direction, ending with a sigh: “Well, Sam, as much as it saddens me, I guess I have to stop with compliments. I remember Luc as a pretty jealous guy and I have to say that, despite the stalemate, I care about my attributes. I might still need them in the future.”</p>
<p>“Just relax, Gabe” Luc chuckled, caressing Sam's lower back thoughtlessly. “Nobody can blame you for having eyes to notice.”</p>
<p>“I like your position. But Sam looks embarrassed enough to me, so let's talk about something other than his good looks, okay?” the landlord proposed pleasantly, and then returned to turn to the youngest of his guests: “So, where in the city do you live?”</p>
<p>The smile on Sam's lips quivered, then disappeared, and Luc's face darkened as the blonde lost himself in another glass of Mojito. Gabriel didn't take more than two seconds to realize he had made the wrong choice of words and his gaze became more attentive, thoughtful.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, was that a question not to ask?”</p>
<p>“No, no. It's just that the answer is more complicated than it might seem,” Sam explained, trying to regain the lightness of a moment before. “It is a somewhat chaotic period.”</p>
<p>“What Sam is trying to say is that, until a few weeks ago, we were living together,” Luc intervened with feigned naturalness.</p>
<p>Gabriel raised both eyebrows, impressed.</p>
<p>“Oh, you made the big decision quite early. And then what happened? You don't seem exactly on a collision course, doves.”</p>
<p>“It happened that...” Sam hesitated, then sighed. “My family doesn't like Luc very much. Actually, they...”</p>
<p>“His brother and his brother-in-law despise me,” Luc wrapped up for him, now freer in showing his rigidity. “To put it mildly, they think I’m not the right one for Sam. They want me out of his life, so they try anything to keep him away from me.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi, everyone :)<br/>This chapter ends quite abruptly, I'm aware. That's because this chapter and the following one were originally together and I could not find a more suitable way to split them - which I did so I don't end up giving you too long chapters.<br/>I will try to publish the second part as soon as possible, so you can know about the rest of the night at Gabriel's place ;)<br/>In the meantime, any opinion about the story so far is, as usual, more than welcome :)<br/>Take care and see you soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. One breath away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Gabriel, now leaning forward and with his elbows resting just above his knees, listened intently. Then he took a few seconds to think and finally nodded with a grave expression that was able to make him a whole other person.</p>
<p>“I understand, but only to a certain extent,” he remarked then, shifting his analytical gaze back to Sam. “You're a grown man. Can't you just tell them to buzz off and do what you want?”</p>
<p>Sam bit his lower lip, more aware than ever of Luc's eyes piercing his skull and of the hand his boyfriend was pressing to the base of his back. He didn't feel the heat of if. If anything, his tense nerves.</p>
<p>“It's not so easy. They are not bad people, they are not evil. I love them, I don't want them to feel anxious or in pain. But at the same time I want to be with Luc, so...”</p>
<p>“So you're at a dead end,” Gabriel acknowledged with a sympathetic nod. “Let me guess, your relatives don’t know you were meeting each other today?”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head.</p>
<p>“My brother would freak out, if he knew,” he justified himself in a whisper, lowering his gaze to the ground.</p>
<p>“Jesus. Not even Romeo and Juliet had it this rough, man. Or rather, they wouldn't have in the twenty-first century,” Gabriel whistled, impressed, looking for his old school friend’s eyes. “But why? Why do they have such a low opinion of you?”</p>
<p>“Bullshit,” Luc replied with a shrug. “I stole the little brother from under the eldest's wing. What can I tell you? Pure jealousy. As if Sam didn't have the right to get a life.”</p>
<p>With a snort, Gabriel fell with his back against the soft back of the cobalt sofa, surrendering to the inevitability of the situation.</p>
<p>“I'm sorry for you guys. It's a bummer.”</p>
<p>His regret drew a polite smile on Sam's face, but it led Luc to raise his glass, which was already empty for the third time.</p>
<p>“Nothing that a little more of your Mojito can't make me forget, at least for tonight.”</p>
<p>Having received some sort of implicit permission, Gabriel smiled smoothly again before standing up and grabbing the jug where only a few mint leaves and lime wedges were left.</p>
<p>“Copy that!”</p>
<p>It was a pleasant evening, one as Sam hadn't had in a long time. Gabriel seemed to swim in his natural habitat, between stories and festive memories of his days in high school, and Luc was so at ease that Sam let himself be carried away by the joy of that candid meeting among friends.</p>
<p>When it was time to say goodbye, Sam pointed out to Luc that it was not a good idea to drive him to Hawthorne Lane in his car. Dean could have noticed them, somehow, so Sam would better call his brother to ask for a ride. Incredibly, perhaps still galvanized by the evening, Luc did not object and prepared to leave first so that Dean would not see his SUV parked in the street.</p>
<p>After greeting Gabriel with a fraternal hug and promising him that they would keep in touch for another reunion, therefore, Luc started walking towards the exit and Sam instinctively followed him while Gabriel was preparing to wash the dirty dishes.</p>
<p>Luc turned to him halfway down the driveway, while Sam was regretting not tucking his jacket over his sweater before leaving. But Luc's gaze, that mix of greed and gloom, was enough to distract him from the cold weather.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he murmured, approaching Sam and rubbing his arms with his palms to mitigate the cold before placing his index finger just under the boy’s chin and lifting it slowly.</p>
<p>Sam's eyes hesitated in his and the boy bit his lower lip. Now that the time for laughters was over, the original reason he had met Luc that day was back to wound him and the right words were out of his reach. Either way, Luc seemed to have enough for both of them.</p>
<p>“Do you know that you haven't even kissed me yet?” he whispered into his mouth.</p>
<p>Sam leaned towards him, closing his lids before parting his lips and merging them with Luc's. At first it was a sweet meeting, so unusual for them, then Sam let himself go with the relief of someone who finds air where sky and ocean meet. Luc put a hand at the base of his neck as the kiss became more intense, he ran after Sam's shortness of breath until they both had enough and stopped, leaning against each other’s foreheads.</p>
<p>“God, I missed you,” Luc hissed with his eyes closed, shaking his head slightly, with pain showing on the lines of his face.</p>
<p>Sam enjoyed the echo of those words in his head until the silence became too much to bear.</p>
<p>“How do we want to do this?” he then exposed himself. “For next time and those after that.”</p>
<p>Luc let out an impatient sigh, pulling away from him.</p>
<p>“If only you just came home with me...”</p>
<p>“Not now. I told you, I can’t.”</p>
<p>“It would all be so fucking easy.”</p>
<p>“Luc, I'm sorry, I really am. But...”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay. I don't want to hear this story anymore,” the other stopped him with an exasperated wave of his hand. “I'll think of something, okay? Now come here.”</p>
<p>He pulled Sam back to him with urgency and with the same need he made their lips collide, kissing him as if they were making their way to the first available bedroom. Sam was happy to know Gabriel was in the house whistling Simon &amp; Garfunkel's <em>Cecilia</em>, because when Luc released him his long hair was disheveled and his skin burned where Luc had touched him – his face, his arms, his back, his hips.</p>
<p>“I'll call you,” Luc greeted him hoarsely, forcing himself to leave while he could still keep it together.</p>
<p>Sam allowed himself to watch him go away only for a few seconds, then quickly reached the door of Gabriel's apartment. He had been one breath, only one breath away from taking back all the promises he had made to himself for the sake of his relationship with Dean, chasing Luc’s SUV and returning to Fairview Avenue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam knew that the message he had sent to Dean to be picked up would take effect quickly, so he prepared at the entrance with his arms already tucked into his coat.</p>
<p>“Time to go?”</p>
<p>Sam looked away from the ornamental plant by the door to look at Gabriel, who was walking towards him from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. After a couple of Mojitos, the host had unbuttoned the top of his shirt and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. He couldn't have looked more relaxed.</p>
<p>“My brother will be here any minute,” Sam smiled back, and Gabriel nodded.</p>
<p>“I hope you had a good time tonight, Sam,” he continued. Sam was about to assure him that yes, he had had a great time, but the other man kept going with some solicitude. Wait, was that a hint of concern in his eyes? “You know, you will have noticed, I'm a jovial fellow. I joke, I mean, a lot. Let's say all the time. Luc knows, he's used to the abnormal amount of bullshit that I say and he’s fond of me, so he doesn't really care or even pay attention to it anymore.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded thoughtfully. It must have been for that reason, for that intense bond of friendship between Luc and Gabriel, that his boyfriend hadn't reacted to Gabe's constant flattery towards Sam. Because Luc had always been an indisputably jealous type of guy, yes. Possessive, Dean would have said.</p>
<p>“I wanted to be sure you understood that too, that you were fine with it. In short, that you felt all right,” Gabriel explained, scratching his cheek. “I never wish to offend anyone with all the stuff I say, let alone one of my best friends’ boyfriend. You know, it has already happened to me in the past that I didn’t know how to adapt to the degree of confidence I had with those in front of me, so...”</p>
<p>“You didn’t offend me. Absolutely. Really,” Sam stopped him at that point, without second thoughts. If there was anything he was sure of, it was how great the whole evening had been. “You should not worry, though. The difference between when you are joking and when you are serious is quite obvious.”</p>
<p>Gabriel gave him an astonished look: “Is it?”</p>
<p>“I saw it,” Sam shrugged, serene. “And I wasn't offended, not at all. Far from it, I enjoyed myself a lot.”</p>
<p>Another of those bright smiles spread across Gabriel's face.</p>
<p>“Great, then.”</p>
<p>A horn blared in the night and Sam jerked his head to recognize the figure of the Impala waiting across the driveway with the engine off.</p>
<p>“There’s my ride.”</p>
<p>“It was a real pleasure to meet you,” Gabriel took his leave, extending his hand, which Sam shook warmly. “I hope I don't have to wait years to see you and that thick head of your boyfriend again.”</p>
<p>“I hope so too. By now Momo and I have a flirt, after all,” the twenty-six year old commented, bending down to pet the cat, who showed up for a last goodbye. “I'm going,” he nodded then, with a last smile for Gabriel's friendly face. “Good night. And thanks for the dinner, it was delicious.”</p>
<p>“Good night, Sam.”</p>
<p>The door closed behind him and Sam pulled up the zipper of his jacket and buried his hands in his pockets before running up to the Impala to slide into the passenger seat. To his surprise, the designated driver was Castiel and there was no sign of Dean. Sam thought that his brother must have been really exhausted to miss an opportunity to drive his baby on a Sunday night, with the roads clear, but he greeted his brother-in-law with a grateful smile.</p>
<p>“Hi.”</p>
<p>“Hello,” Cas replied with the satisfied, however tired expression of someone who is fully enjoying his Christmas holidays. “So, did you spend a nice evening?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” the boy agreed, fastening his seat belt. “I definitely did, Cas.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad to hear that. And what's your friend's name?” Castiel asked again, starting the engine and turning on the headlights.</p>
<p>And for once, Sam didn't care that behind that question was his and Dean's restlessness, their doubts, their fears and their need to make sure the family's puppy was safe and away from Luc. Sam's heart was still too shaken by the last laughs for the young man to think of reacting with anything other than a happy smile. On the other hand, he had the best thought out alibi ever: the truth. Or at least part of it.</p>
<p>“Gabriel,” he replied casually, pointing to the door he had just come out, while Cas maneuvered cautiously to exit the internal street. “Gabriel Hale.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, I guess sometimes I can actually be fast! I hope you're happy about it.<br/>Those comments you left me on the 23rd chapter really made me want to hurry for you, so thank you and please let me know your opinions about this one :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. The phone call</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>The following Wednesday, two days before the start of the new year, the phone call took Luc by surprise.</p>
<p>Despite the festive air outside the windows inspired idleness, he was sitting at the desk in his home office and had been editing spreadsheets since eight in the morning. Often brooding too much on Sam's absence and on those he felt guilty for that far from ideal situation made him nervous, so for a few weeks he had dedicated himself headlong to work even when he could have afforded a day of breathing. But still, it was December 30th, he did not expect to receive new assignments at least until after New Year's Day. So, when the ringing of his cellphone broke the otherwise perfect silence of his home, the man jumped in his swivel chair.</p>
<p>Having left his phone beside the glass of white wine he had brought with him after breakfast, Luc was able to peek at the screen even before picking it up. When he saw that it was showing an unknown number, he frowned, but grabbed his smartphone anyway and cleared his throat before answering the call.</p>
<p>“Hello?”</p>
<p>“Hey, busy man with a serious tone. This is Gabe.”</p>
<p>As soon as Luc recognized his high school friend’s playful voice, his forehead relaxed again.</p>
<p>“Oh, hi. Sorry, I must have lost your number changing phones.”</p>
<p>“After so many years, I'd say it's understandable.”</p>
<p>“I'll save it again as soon as we hang up,” Luc promised, leaning back on his chair. “What can I do for you?”</p>
<p>“Could I have a few minutes of your time?”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Luc nodded, frowning a second time. “What is it about?”</p>
<p>That minimal assent was enough for Gabriel's tone to become that of the rogue who had dragged Luc into his own pool of trouble a million times, during their teenage years, for the sheer sake of putting up a slap-up joke against some unfortunate guy.</p>
<p>“I have a proposition for you and I think you’ll like it.”</p>
<p>“About what?” the other man inquired in a suspicious tone.</p>
<p>“About your problem. Your and Sam's problem, I mean. Man, you broke my heart the other day, with all the drama surrounding your love story. I'm sorry for your situation, I’m saying this with love.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it sucks,” Luc agreed with a sigh, reluctantly returning his attention on the matter. “But I don't understand what...”</p>
<p>“Well, the fact is, after you left I found myself thinking about it. From what you told me, I understood that you and Sam need a place where to meet each other and spend some time together with all due respect to his family, don’t you? Unbeknownst to his family. Am I right?”</p>
<p>Luc fiddled a bit with his only half full glass of wine, before bringing it to his lips and taking a huge sip.</p>
<p>“You are,” he muttered immediately after a thud brought the glass back to the white table. “I'd rather him just come back to me, but Sam doesn't want to hear any of that because of the reaction his brother might have. So yes, at the moment meeting in secret remains our only option.”</p>
<p>“And I guess you can't do it at your place, because it would be very much like a real move. They could find you easily, Sam will not want to take the risk,” Gabriel continued with knowledge of the facts.</p>
<p>“You got it right once again,” Luc agreed. He was beginning to resent being interrupted in his daily attempt to forget Sam's absurd claims. “Also because keeping my house under control would be a gesture worthy of that psychopath Dean Winchester is.”</p>
<p>“So you need another place,” Gabriel concluded, strangely concise and pragmatic.</p>
<p>“Yeah. I was thinking of a...”</p>
<p>“Don't say motel,” the boy on the other side of the phone begged him with a voice halfway between whining and peremptory. “Please tell me you weren't going to say motel. Those places around here make even dogs sick, man, ew, you can’t possibly want to take your boyfriend there!”</p>
<p>Luc took a deep breath and began to play absentmindedly with the first pencil he found, doing his best to keep at bay the exasperation that inevitably ended up accompanying his every conversation with that clown Gabriel was.</p>
<p>“Okay, Gabe. Care to tell me where you’re going with this?”</p>
<p>“Well, in short, I thought I could offer you my home.”</p>
<p>As if struck by lightning, Luc sat up straight in his chair. Then, as it wasn't enough, he jumped on his feet. He had opened his mouth and was about to spit out all his disbelief, but a moment later he was able to remember how much effort his friend had to put into his every attempt not to give in to his prolix nature. Inevitably failing miserably every single time.</p>
<p>“Or rather, my room. I need the whole house, you know, to <em>live</em> in it. Even if I was thinking of offering you every Sunday afternoon, as a weekly appointment, and on Sunday evening I often find something with which to occupy my time outside, in the world, but, anyway, it would be all about the room above all and for most of the time. Because after all, that's what you need, right? Think about it for a moment, I am above suspicion. I thought that if Sam’s family were to ask him something, Sam could pass me off as a friend, or a new flame of his, whatever he sees fit. Even though I personally think that choosing friendship could turn out to be a winning card, given the circumstances. Anyhoo, the important thing is that I believe the idea can work and...”</p>
<p>“Hold on a moment, Gabe, Christ,” Luc interrupted him when he couldn't take it anymore, and then tried to calm down. Running a hand through his short blond hair, he moved a few steps around the room, dumbfounded: “Are you just fucking around or serious?”</p>
<p>On the other side there was a silence that, being Gabriel the word machine he was, had something miraculous about it. But it only lasted the time the man needed to blink his eyes. Then his voice returned, bewildered as his friend’s.</p>
<p>“Very serious. Why are you asking me that?”</p>
<p>Luc needed a moment to think about it.</p>
<p>“Well, because it's very generous of you, but...”</p>
<p>“But?”</p>
<p>Luc coughed again, then licked his lips.</p>
<p>“Let’s say this idea of yours comes to be and I accept your offer... you know what Sam and I would spend time doing in your room, don’t you?”</p>
<p>Gabriel gave a ridiculous snort, then stepped on his friend's fake embarrassment without mercy.</p>
<p>“Yes, Lucy, I have thought about it and come up with a vague notion of what two guys who feel attraction towards each other could use a bed for. But thank you for being a sweet candy and making sure I wasn't still buried in my virginal innocence, so very caring of you.”</p>
<p>“You're always the same old moron,” Luc retorted, shaking his head, and then went back to biting the inside of his cheek. “It's just that… really, Gabe? Would you really do that?”</p>
<p>This time there was no sign of hesitation.</p>
<p>“Listen, Luc: you're a friend, you need a hand and I can do something about it. To me, the result sounds simple enough. As long as you take care of changing the sheets every time you leave. I am not going to compromise on this.”</p>
<p>For the first time since that conversation had begun, Luc let out a liberating smile. Touching his short beard-covered cheeks with his thumb and index fingertips, he began walking around the office with his back much straighter than it had been just a minute before.</p>
<p>“Well, you really are a friend. You know, you'd save me a lot of trouble.”</p>
<p>“Not to mention some of the infectious diseases you'd get in the filthy motel you were considering going to. How disgusting. Yuck,” Gabriel pointed out, making him roll his eyes.</p>
<p>“Okay, you’ve made your position clear on this.”</p>
<p>“So that's a yes from you?” Gabriel asked as a final confirmation, and Luc thought he could see one of his relaxed smiles make space on his now adult face. “You can ask Sam what he thinks about it and let me know, with no hurry.”</p>
<p>Luc allowed himself to think about it for just a second. After all the conditions Sam had been placing on him and their relationship lately, he believed he had the full right to make a single decision for both of them. He had just found a solution to their problem, come on, he deserved to vote for two. And after all, he knew Sam wouldn't dare say another no. Not to him, not in the state he was, silently begging to run back into his arms. That thought was enough to transform Luc’s smile into a saturated with power grin.</p>
<p>“No need to wait. You can already consider it a definite yes. Sam will adjust.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here I am!<br/>This chapter is a little bit shorter than usual, but next one is going to be a little bit longer, so I guess balance is the way.<br/>I was looking forward to showing you some more (even if not much, not yet) about how Gabriel and Luc interact. Please let me know what you think about it, I love reading your opinions, theories and enthusiasm in the comments :)<br/>Take care, sending you virtual hugs!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Mint and apricots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After he got off the bus, it didn't take Sam more than five minutes to get to Gabriel's door. During his short walk – as had happened during the twenty minutes he had spent on the bus and the previous four days –, the boy could not help but keep thinking about how little he was comfortable with Luc's plan.</p>
<p>Not because he believed that this gimmick had some logistical imperfection, it wasn’t that. But since Luc had called him, four days earlier, and told him that the solution to their problem was to be Gabriel’s guests every Sunday afternoon, a sense of panic had begun to grow in Sam. And all that anxiety was nothing but deep embarrassment at the idea that Gabriel had offered them a place where to...</p>
<p><em>Fuck</em>, Sam concluded in his own mind. <em>Luc and I a</em><em>re going to</em> <em> m</em><em>eet</em> <em> t</em><em>o</em> <em> fuck at his friend's house every Sunday afternoon. After all, these are things that people do all the time, aren't they? T</em><em>hey</em> <em> go out for a drink together, go to the cinema, for a walk, or </em> <em>they </em> <em>meet to fuck in another person's bed. A person I met practically the day before yesterday, among other things. </em> <em>That’s g</em><em>reat, really great.</em></p>
<p>Needless to say, he did not agree with the plan. Needless to say, he was so ashamed to show up at Gabriel's place with such premises. Needless to say, Luc couldn't have cared less about his protests, not when, as he had reminded Sam on the phone on Wednesday, Sam was making his life so difficult. So Sam had capitulated, recognized that he had to compromise and said yes. But deciding to please Luc hadn't made it easier for him to make peace with that idea.</p>
<p>When he reached out to ring Gabriel's doorbell, the muffled echo of Wham!'s <em>Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go</em> came from inside the apartment and the crazy volume of the music hit Sam in the face as soon as Gabriel opened the door.</p>
<p>“Hey, Sam! Happy New Year!” the landlord shouted over George Michael's voice, reaching out to give him a welcoming pat on the arm.</p>
<p>“Ha-Happy New Year to you too,” Sam exclaimed, letting out a laugh in the wake of that absurd situation.</p>
<p>Strangely, despite all the thoughts he had had running in his head up to that moment, the appearing of Gabriel's radiant face with the accompaniment of that song was enough to relieve him some.</p>
<p>“Come on in, I’ll be with you right away,” the boy on the threshold announced, leaving the door open and running into the house.</p>
<p>Sam barely had time to accept the invitation and close the door behind his back before the volume of the music was suddenly lowered to a human level and Gabriel was back from the stereo station with a vaguely contrite look on his face.</p>
<p>“Here you go. Your eardrums are safe now,” he announced. “Sorry for the disco effect, but every now and then I like indulging in some crazy joy.”</p>
<p>Sam chuckled: “You should not be sorry. I did it too, at times, when I lived alone.”</p>
<p>“Has its perks, hasn’t it?” Gabriel agreed, giving him a wink. “Let me put away your coat for you.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded and took off his jacket, remaining in jeans and his red and black plaid flannel shirt, open over a cotton T-shirt. While Gabriel put his coat in the closet at the entrance, Sam took a few awkward steps in the living area, putting a hand on the back of his head in the meantime.</p>
<p>“Sorry I'm early. I’m always afraid of being late and then the opposite happens. I hope I’m not bothering you.”</p>
<p>“Are you kidding? That’s no problem at all, take a seat,” Gabriel invited him in a calm tone, pointing to the sofas in the living room before reaching the kitchen counter and retrieving the kettle. “I was making myself something hot to drink, because the heating only works when it feels like it. Would you like some herbal tea or do you find it an old people’s habit? Answer honestly, I am aware of me being an old-fashioned old man.”</p>
<p>“No no, I like herbal teas,” Sam assured him with a smile, sitting down in the same place as the previous week. “Besides, we can't be many years apart, can we?”</p>
<p>Gabriel raised a mocking eyebrow as he prepared to pour the boiling water into a complete with filter ceramic jug. Armed with a tray and a couple of different cups, then, he brought everything to the coffee table in the living room and left the tea to infuse to let himself fall on the opposite sofa.</p>
<p>“Okay, you convinced me, let's hurt,” he declared, laying his right arm on the armrest. “When were you born? Shoot straight to the heart.”</p>
<p>“1983,” Sam replied, grinning when Gabriel closed his eyes as if to take the blow.</p>
<p>“May you innocence be blessed,” he commented. “This carcass here came to this world in 1978.”</p>
<p>“Like Luc.”</p>
<p>“Like Luc,” Gabriel confirmed with an affirmative nod before moving on to another topic. “So, did you have a good New Year’s Celebration?”</p>
<p>Sam nodded calmly. Maybe, if he had been with any other person he had known for such a short time, he would have had some difficulty sitting down with him and having the most common of conversations – especially considering why he was at his place. But Gabriel was so loose, so open and so capable, with other people, that the thought didn't even cross Sam's mind. The discomfort he had felt just before ringing the bell had disappeared like a faint fear amidst a chorus of laughter.</p>
<p>“I was with my family. My mother was keen to spend some more time together before her going back to Florida.”</p>
<p>“Florida, uh! Nice,” Gabriel commented, leaning back towards the table to be able to serve the tea.</p>
<p>The pungent, fresh scent of mint tickled Sam's nostrils as the host handed him a sunset-colored mug.</p>
<p>“Yes, she likes it very much,” Sam said, shrugging without adding anything else. In fact, he had bet that Mary would be back in Sioux Falls by the summer. The idea of her first grandson on the way had thrilled her more than both Dean and Cas had taken into account. “What about you? Your New Year’s Eve?”</p>
<p>“I had too much to eat,” Gabriel summed up, placing a hand on his stomach, which was not at all prominent. “But it always ends up like this when everyone brings something to dinners, isn't it?”</p>
<p>“I think I can understand that,” Sam agreed with a smile, blowing on the cup of hot tea he was now holding in his cupped hands. “I was thinking I could double my workouts, to dispose of a bit of all the good things I swallowed. My brother-in-law cooks very well.”</p>
<p>“I can tell you for sure that you don't need it. I can clearly see you are an athletic type,” Gabriel considered, approaching the mint infusion with all the caution he needed to avoid burning his tongue. After correcting it with four heaping teaspoons of sugar, of course, for good measure. “Let me guess: football?”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head. He was grateful to Gabriel for the distraction he was offering him by talking about this and that. The more that pleasant chattering would have kept him away from the thought of invading his bedroom with Luc, the more chances Sam would have of surviving that experience without sinking into an ocean of embarrassment.</p>
<p>“No, I left that in high school.”</p>
<p>“Well, I feel satisfied enough. If we had met ten years ago, I would have been right.”</p>
<p>“Now I mainly go jogging. I don't have many other hobbies, besides reading.”</p>
<p>Gabriel nodded with a genuine interest in his eyes. Then a flash of bravado, like a flash of light, crossed his whiskey-colored irises.</p>
<p>“Come on, it's your turn,” he challenged him, nodding to indicate himself. “Read me.”</p>
<p>Sam threw himself into the test with an intrigued smile, after taking a sip of the mint tea.</p>
<p>“Well, you love music,” he began to list, taking the time to observe the living area again, but in more detail than he had done the previous week. In the meantime, he was able to realize that he liked Gabriel's musical tastes more and more: the song that the stereo was playing now was <em>Save tonight</em>. “Books. Cooking. Cats,” he added, locating the tip of Momo's tail between the kitchen counter and the refrigerator. “And I think you like going to the theater too,” he concluded with a hint of the same boldness that was showing in the landlord’s eyes.</p>
<p>Gabriel struggled to hide a pleased smile.</p>
<p>“How did you deduce this one?”</p>
<p>“Your library is overflowing with comedies, tragedies and adaptations. You even have DVDs of Broadway musicals,” Sam answered, turning around for a moment to caress everything with his eyes.</p>
<p>“And I would not leave them behind for the world,” the other specified. “You almost got it all.”</p>
<p>In a flash, Sam returned to his eyes: “What did I miss?”</p>
<p>“I don’t just like going to the theater. I also perform,” Gabriel explained, settling himself cross-legged on the sofa.</p>
<p>“Really?” Sam said, pleasantly surprised.</p>
<p>“Guilty,” Gabriel admitted, satisfied in his sparkling way.</p>
<p>“That’s great,” Sam murmured in admiration. “Maybe sometime Luc and I could come to one of your plays. I'm sure he'd like it too.”</p>
<p>The other man raised an educated eyebrow, but withheld the more explicit comments.</p>
<p>“I have my doubts about the possibility of combining Luc and the theater. But if you're interested, I can get you tickets for the premiere of the show I'm preparing with my company. It's in a month or so. This might give you time to convince your grumpy boyfriend to act as your irritating <em>chaperone</em>.”</p>
<p>Sam's smile widened on Gabriel's round French <em>r</em>.</p>
<p>“I'd love to.”</p>
<p>“That’s a deal, then,” the thirty-one-year-old said, reaching out to the fruit basket that stood on the table, next to the jug of infusion, and fishing for one of the many available apricots.</p>
<p>That gesture attracted Sam’s attention to the fruits he had failed to notice a moment before.</p>
<p>“Sorry if I ask,” the boy inquired with his brow furrowed “but where can you find apricots in January? Are they good?”</p>
<p>“Good?” Gabriel repeated with an almost offended tone, finishing with a second bite the first half of the fruit he had chosen. “They're heavenly! Go on, try one.”</p>
<p>Sam obliged out of pure curiosity. Once the apricot was divided in two, he brought a piece to his mouth and the strong, sweet and undoubtedly summery flavor exploded on his tongue just as Leonard Cohen's peaceful voice began to echo in the living room with his <em>Suzanne</em>. Yes, absolutely commendable musical taste. As clear and surprising as the flavor of those apricots.</p>
<p>“How in hell…?” Sam muttered, amazed, after finishing the fruit in a few bites.</p>
<p>Gabriel laughed.</p>
<p>“The store I work in? It sells fruit and vegetables,” he explained then, leaning over to push the fruit bowl towards Sam so that he could help himself. “I have the best contacts in all of Sioux Falls, my dear boy.”</p>
<p>“I don't doubt it,” Sam nodded, indulging in a second apricot before returning to sip the infusion. “The tea is also very good. Do you sell this too?”</p>
<p>“I do, after making it. I dry the herbs, in this case the mint, in a small laboratory in the back of the shop. I liked to improvise as a herbalist, so I took a course,” he said, taking two or three more apricots. “And what do you do, Sam? Do you study? Work? The other night I was particularly rude and I didn't even ask you.”</p>
<p>The boy shrugged, trying to alleviate his guilt.</p>
<p>“Oh, it doesn't matter. You and Luc had so much to catch up on.”</p>
<p>“Not a valid excuse,” Gabriel objected in a velvet voice, and Sam smiled at his exquisite courtesy.</p>
<p>“I work in a university facility. Nothing important, I'm a librarian,” he replied, settling himself better on the sofa.</p>
<p>Although he had spoken with the utmost modesty, Gabriel seemed drawn to the subject.</p>
<p>“I wouldn't call it anything important. It sounds fascinating, working with books. And interesting. Isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, it is,” Sam replied. “It's just that originally I wanted to be a lawyer.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“Yes. But I left college after a few years. I only have a BA. I dropped out of law school when... after the first year.”</p>
<p>“Nonetheless, it's something you should be proud of,” Gabriel persevered, and if only his tone hadn't been as placid as ever, Sam would have thought he was doing his best to convince him of those words.</p>
<p>However, he didn't have much time to think about it, because a moment later he heard the noise of a door being opened and a hooded figure appeared on the entrance mat. Apparently it had started snowing again.</p>
<p>“Oh, hello Luc,” Gabriel greeted him kindly.</p>
<p>His friend gave him a weary nod that indicated how unpleasant the traffic lights and intersections to overcome to reach Salisbury Willows from Fairview Avenue were, then he swept his gaze to recognize Sam with a look of surprise.</p>
<p>“You’re already here?”</p>
<p>“Sam was telling me about his studies and his job,” Gabriel answered instead of the boy, sharing a calm smile with both of them. “He has lots of culture on his shoulders, huh? That’s something for you to be proud of, too.”</p>
<p>When Sam turned towards the entrance and saw Luc, it was like suffering the sudden interruption of a dream whose contours he was still trying to decipher. Not because he didn't want to finally be alone with Luc away from prying eyes – too much time had passed since the last time they had a bedroom for themselves – but chatting with Gabriel had distracted him from his initial embarrassment and the impatience that transpired from Luc was enough to make him collapse again in his own nervousness.</p>
<p>Sam was dying to make love with him – how could it be otherwise, he wondered – yet there was something about the prospect of using Gabriel's bedroom that held him back, even froze him. And things didn't take a better turn when Luc, clearly numb to his discomfort, decided to act as if there was already no one else in the room.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah, Sammy has a pretty good little mind,” he commented after reaching the small crowd with firm steps, and the first thing Sam felt after his kiss on the lips was the energetic slap that energetically hit his behind and made him start. “Nothing that is even remotely comparable to the rest of him, of course.”</p>
<p>There, under Gabriel's eyes. Sam felt his face going on fire and himself sinking into pure shame, not even realizing that not even Gabriel had managed to feign indifference.</p>
<p>“Luc, please...”</p>
<p>“What, are you getting shy now?” his boyfriend teased him. “Be patient for a moment, baby, and then I’ll get you out of that bad mood.”</p>
<p>Sam closed his eyes for a second. If he was to be completely honest, he sometimes didn't mind being treated like an object of pleasure. Sometimes. Not always. In private. Not in front of a friend, Jesus Christ.</p>
<p>The cough with which Gabriel cleared his throat at that point distracted him.</p>
<p>“Would you like some tea, Luc?</p>
<p>It was only by finally allowing himself to look at Gabriel that Sam realized their mutual discomfort. But Luc did not seem to deem it appropriate or advantageous to take one or the other into consideration.</p>
<p>“No, thanks. I was thinking that Sam and I could start using the room you so kindly made available for us,” he went straight to the point, then seeking support from his boyfriend. “What do you say, sugar?”</p>
<p>Completely drowned in discomfort now, Sam just rubbed his arms with his hands and kept his eyes firmly on the tips of his shoes. Not that Luc cared about his answer, anyway. Luc was not in the least aware that he had screwed up all the quiet that Gabriel's pleasant curiosity had managed to weave around Sam.</p>
<p>“Gabe, these are for you,” Luc continued to prove this thesis, throwing a small plastic wrap to his friend and sneering when the other grabbed it. “They might come in handy.”</p>
<p>Earplugs.</p>
<p><em>Great</em>, Sam thought once again, feeling stiff again in every nerve in his body.</p>
<p>He was sure that, if the moment hadn't been so embarrassing for everyone but Luc, Gabriel would have given birth to a quick and sharp reply, something on the wave of “What a nice thought. Too bad I have already organized myself with headphones and my old mp3 player”. But Gabriel just raised an eyebrow, staying between sardonic and dejected in front of that joke that came out wrong, and gave Sam a sympathetic look as soon as Luc began to move them both towards the stairs.</p>
<p>“See you later?” Luc threw there without even looking at his friend, one foot already on the first step.</p>
<p>Gabriel put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and put on a relaxed, casual look. If Sam hadn't been at the center of that paradoxical situation of using a friend's house as a motel, he would have laughed at that absurd picture.</p>
<p>“It depends on how long you’ll stay for. I have rehearsal at the theater tonight.”</p>
<p>“Well, in case we don't see each other until next week, have a good rehearsal,” Luc took his leave quickly, and then began to happily climb the steps up to the first floor. “Come on, Sam.”</p>
<p>Sam hesitated for another second with his feet on the ground floor and his eyes in Gabriel's, as he tried to understand what was the most polite way to say goodbye in that situation. Eventually all that came out of him was a tentative wave with his raised hand.</p>
<p>“Ahem- bye, then.”</p>
<p>Gabriel's lips curled to the side, in a crooked smile that did everything he could to appear convinced.</p>
<p>“Bye, Sam.”</p>
<p>It took a superior strength to force Sam to move, given all the shame that was still lighting his cheeks and closing his throat. And for all the fifteen seconds it took him to walk up that hill of a staircase, he thought he felt the back of his neck tingle at the gaze that Gabriel kept focused on him until he disappeared behind Luc.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We have finally arrived to the chapter that has the same title as the story. That is because, for many reasons (some of which will remain hidden for a while longer), this is a turning point.<br/>Did you like it? How does Gabriel look to you? How does Sam? In how many different ways would you like to kill Luc? In short, I'm dying to know what you think of this chapter.<br/>Take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Just a slap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Sam held his breath starting from the base of the stairs to the moment he could close the door to Gabriel's room behind himself. It was a desperate strategy, improvised in an attempt to keep from turning and running away, but, incredibly, it worked.</p>
<p>Sam followed Luc without a word of protest, repeating to himself who knows what distracting mantra – <em>just do it, just do it, just do it</em> – to avoid asking himself useless questions. He had agreed to do it, he was already there. He couldn't afford to let Luc down, not again.</p>
<p>Once inside, he took a few seconds to catch his breath and take a look around. That surely would have helped with the panic he felt rising in his chest, he told himself, it would have worked as a distraction from the doubts that were making the soles of his feet so itchy.</p>
<p>With a single glance he embraced the whole bedroom, from the window with the white curtains on the left to the chest of drawers made of tanned, antique wood, which Sam found on his right. In the middle, a room which had obviously been tidied up for guests: a white wardrobe and the double bed that had been made without letting a single crease on the sheets, with a blanket with autumn patterns and colors on it.</p>
<p>Above the mattress, not too high, were three shelves holding some more books, an aloe plant, a box covered with unlabeled fabric and some photo frames – from a distance, Sam was able to recognize some bright smiling faces: Gabriel’s, a man’s and woman’s who might have been his parents, and an older picture of an enthusiastic teenage Gabriel, dressed in mountain gear and with a little girl – she might have been one year old at most – peeking out of his backpack.</p>
<p>Sam ignored Luc and the hasty gesture with which he got rid of his cashmere sweater and instead took a few steps towards the opposite side of the room, ending up stopping in front of the only painting decorating the space: it was the portrait of a woman with big and fleeting eyes, with her face half hidden by a veil that seemed destined to get lost in the wind and her hair dyed a thousand different colors. Sam was so engrossed in the contemplation that, when Luc came to his back to wrap his arms around his waist and kiss his neck, the younger boy almost escaped his touch. His gasp, however, was not lucky enough to go unnoticed and Luc just raised his head, confused and indignant.</p>
<p>“Well, what the hell is wrong with you?”</p>
<p>Sam closed his eyes and asked himself the same question as his folded arms stiffened even more – it was just so cold in that room.</p>
<p>What was happening to him? He actually knew. He knew he was still uneasy about that deal which was not a solution, but he knew even better that what really had given a decisive boost to his rampant feeling of unease was the way in which Luc had approached him downstairs. And Gabriel's stunned eyes.</p>
<p>God, he had felt so ashamed. But he certainly could not tell Luc <em>that</em>, because his boyfriend would have misread everything, he would have recognized tragedies where there were none – or perhaps he would have simply got furious, seeing his right to do as he preferred violated. And Sam would have done anything to avoid another fight with Luc, but his partner was waiting for an answer and he had used up all the time available to stop and think.</p>
<p>“You arrived late,” he then instinctively pulled out, reopening his eyes but refusing to turn around to meet Luc's gaze.</p>
<p>If he had, Luc would have recognized the lie just by looking into his eyes. It was better to just continue observing the infinite brush strokes of the painting that covered most of the wall, until he eventually would have got lost in it, if necessary. Behind him, Sam felt Luc take a step backward and braced himself for what was to come.</p>
<p>“So what?” Luc retorted, piqued, and Sam squeezed his own arms with more conviction than necessary.</p>
<p>It was certainly not the first time he happened to look for a distraction in physical pain and it wouldn't be the last.</p>
<p>“So nothing. I thought you were more eager to see me, that's all,” he exhaled in one breath, annihilated by all the contradictory emotions that were scratching his rib cage.</p>
<p>“What are you talking about?” Luc snarled. “Of course I wanted to see you. What do you expect now, that I run and apologize to you every time I’m a few minutes late?”</p>
<p>Sam found it natural to counter the increase in Luc's tone with a progressively subdued voice.</p>
<p>“That’s not what I said,” he murmured, almost to himself.</p>
<p>“And at least have the decency to look me in the face when I’m talking to you,” Luc reacted angrily, grabbing him hard by his arm and forcing him to turn around with a jerk.</p>
<p>It was only when he was pierced by the explosive anger in Luc’s clear eyes that Sam remembered that he had better not let a single sound of disappointment come out of his mouth. He should have known, he shouldn't have allowed himself to disrespect Luc in that way. But it was too late now. Luc pulled him until their faces were close enough for Sam to feel his boyfriend's warm breath on his skin.</p>
<p>“I left a job halfway through and drove through hell to be here with you, we are here because of you and your absurd attachment to that neurotic brother of yours and now I’m the one who should apologize, hm? Me, Sam?”</p>
<p>Sam swallowed hard and slowly denied with his head, forcing himself not to take his eyes away from Luc’s.</p>
<p>“I was just saying that...”</p>
<p>Talking back. Another elementary, gross, unforgivable mistake. Before Sam could even remember that, Luc was more than happy to remind him.</p>
<p>His backhanded slap hit Sam straight in the face, between his eye and his jaw, and sent him to collapse on the bed with his right cheek burning. There was a wave of shame, Sam's wet eyes raced to take refuge on the parquet floor and a few notes of the song Gabriel's stereo was playing downstairs became discernible – this time it was Toto's <em>Africa</em>, with its promises of love and freedom. But it was just a moment before Luc was back on Sam, the fingers of his right hand clawed in a grip around his face.</p>
<p>“What?” he challenged the boy to go on. “What were you saying?”</p>
<p>Sam swallowed one thousandth of his fear along with the taste of blood. After a month apart, he had almost forgotten how brutal Luc's slaps could be.</p>
<p>“N-nothing,” he mumbled, standing still in an attempt not to provoke him further.</p>
<p>“Exactly. That's right, Sammy,” Luc nodded in a whisper, as the fury on his face turned into a feral, terrible smile, and his hand marked Sam's purple cheek with a possessive caress. “It's in your best interest to keep quiet. Or maybe it's your intention to start pissing me off right away?”</p>
<p>“No. No, Luc,” the boy stammered, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground as he cautiously sat up and cursed himself for the hands that, once placed in his lap, had begun to shake as they hadn't for a long time.</p>
<p>It didn't take Luc more than two seconds to notice and close Sam's fists in the grip of his hands. He did it just for the time needed to attract the boy's attention, then withdrew his right hand to make it rise, tapped Sam’s chin with his index finger and greeted his bewildered and tearful eyes with a sly smile.</p>
<p>“Pull yourself together, sweetheart. It was just a slap. And it's not like you didn't deserve it, am I right?” was the breath that Sam felt brush his ear a moment later, when Luc bent over him. “Now we’re gonna have some real fun, huh?” he added with the hoarse voice of desire, as he undid the buttons of Sam's plaid shirt and freed the boy from it before grabbing the edges of the t-shirt waiting underneath. Between one garment and the following one, he ferociously took Sam’s lips between his teeth, bit his neck, ran his fingers all over him with an insatiable hunger. “Let's take that sad look right out of you, what do you say?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Luc,” Sam whispered, letting him do whatever he wanted.</p>
<p>He didn't object when Luc began to undress him. He couldn't resist even when the older one fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans before he even thought about his own. He didn't make a sound when Luc set to work to take his pants off. A far away voice was echoing between the walls of his skull.</p>
<p>
  <em>It was just a slap.</em>
</p>
<p>Where did that sentence come from?</p>
<p>When Luc gave him a push, making him fall with his back on the mattress to be able to take off the last clothes standing, Sam gasped and realized he could not wait for Luc's bestial impulses to take him, to distract him in the most complete, rude and satisfying way he knew. For lack of anything else, Sam wanted Luc to fuck him until he was unable to run after all those thoughts, those shadows that promised much worse than he had received until then. He was about to tell him, to beg Luc to give it to him, when his boyfriend preceded him.</p>
<p>“I know what you need. You got a little sour during the holidays, huh?” Luc grinned, settling on top of him after finally losing his own clothes. “Now Daddy is gonna take care of you, baby doll.”</p>
<p>When Luc wedged Sam's right leg over his own shoulder, the younger boy eased the process and prayed it would start soon. That echo in his head was driving him crazy.</p>
<p>
  <em>It was just a slap. It's not like you didn't deserve it. You would deserve more, am I right?</em>
</p>
<p>With an anguished moan, Sam welcomed Luc inside himself as the only salvation he felt worthy of. And soon, between their panting, the creaking of the mattress, the pangs of pain alternating with pleasure and Luc’s groans accompanying the music playing on the ground floor, Sam managed to forget that insistent voice.</p>
<p>A few hours later he would even have been able to tell himself that he had liked it. After all, it had been just a slap.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello, everybody!<br/>I know this chapter might have been particularly painful for some of you, but once again I am here to encourage you to hold on, because a brighter future is ahead and sometimes the paths of life are just slower than recommended. Please, stay with Sam.<br/>Would you like to tell me your opinion about this chapter? I would love to read them.<br/>Until then, take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Discipline</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <em>- May 18<sup>th</sup>, 1996 -</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>It was dinner time at the Winchester h</em><em>ousehold</em><em>. But while the spouses John and Mary Winchester were h</em><em>elping</em> <em> themselves w</em><em>ith some more</em> <em> salad and their eldest son, Dean, was already attacking his third beer e</em><em>scalope</em> <em> with </em> <em>his</em> <em> knife and fork, the youngest of the family, thirteen years old </em> <em>of age – the</em> <em> last </em> <em>of which he had</em> <em> spent growing like a bonsai that turns out to be sequoia – had </em> <em>only</em> <em> swallowed a handful of baked potatoes and was playing with the rest of the content of h</em><em>is</em> <em> p</em><em>late</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p><em>With his left elbow resting on the table and his head on his hand, he hadn't said a word since his father had c</em><em>ome</em> <em> home an hour earlier and seemed to have every intention of continuing on that self-defeating path. Dean, who </em> <em>was</em> <em> certainly a</em> <em>ware of</em> <em> his little brother's b</em><em>ad</em> <em> mood, was pretty sure that before the end of the day Sam would </em> <em>have </em> <em>received </em><em>the consideration he was asking for with that timeless reverse psychology </em> <em>which </em> <em>typical of the worst peaks of adolescence. If that interest in him would h</em><em>ave come</em> <em> in the form of a loud l</em><em>ecture</em> <em> from Dad, Sam would have </em> <em>had </em> <em>little to complain about, given t</em><em>he</em> <em> attitude </em> <em>he was sporting</em> <em> at the table.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Sam, c</em><em>ould</em><em> you pass me the salt?” John Winchester asked out of nowhere. </em><em>O</em><em>nly after a few seconds had passed without his youngest son's arm or the salt shaker moving, t</em><em>he man looked</em><em> up from the salad leaves he was </em><em>mixing.</em><em> “Sam. </em><em>The s</em><em>alt, please.”</em></p>
<p><em>Still nothing. Sam kept his eyes fixed on his plate, continuing to turn over the rosemary and the now cold potato wedges. Before his father could insist a second time – and bring the situation to the brink of a s</em><em>ure</em> <em> argument, one that lately was all too easy to blow up with Sam –, Dean reached over his younger brother's </em> <em>p</em><em>out, grabbed the salt shaker and passed it to his right, where John sat at the head of the table.</em></p>
<p>“<em>H</em><em>e's angry b</em><em>ecause</em><em> you didn't go to his game,” the </em><em>seventeen</em><em>-year-old explained in response to his father's questioning look.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam stiffened and gave his brother a murderous look, but neither Dean nor his father gave any sign of noticing.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>His game?” John repeated, slightly wrinkling his forehead as he added a pinch of salt to the l</em><em>ettuce</em><em> he had on his plate.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Yesterday, Dad. There was his soccer match,” Dean specified, with all the patience that his younger brother seemed to have run out of for some time, at least towards his parent.</em></p>
<p>“<em>O</em><em>h, ye</em><em>ah,”</em><em> the man remembered with a nod of his head. He took the time to bring a </em><em>piece of meat and some green leaves</em><em> to his mouth, chew and swallow t</em><em>hem</em><em> before g</em><em>oing</em><em> on, waving the hand holding the fork in his eldest son’</em><em>s direction</em><em>. “But yesterday there was also your wrestling match. It would have been impossible t</em><em>o come to</em><em> both of them.”</em></p>
<p><em>At that moment Sam decided he had had enough. Or rather, he just couldn't hold his tongue anymore. He hated the haughty, superior and superficial behavior with which his father accepted every criticism, when on the other hand he demanded absolute and immediate obedience every time he barked an order. Sam had not yet memorized the Constitution – not all of it, at least – but that way of a</em> <em>cting</em> <em> was enough to make his whole being c</em><em>ry scandal</em><em>. Fed up with being on the sidelines, he stabbed a potato wedge with so much energy that his fork's teeth gritted against the ceramic plate.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I would</em><em>n’t</em><em> say </em><em>s</em><em>o, since Dean was at my g</em><em>ame</em><em> and a</em><em>lso</em><em> won his wrestling match,” he snapped, in that tone his brother used to call petulant. “So, unless Dean owns a Time-Turner, it was perfectly possible to be there for both of them.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>John Winchester looked up from his plate to give him a warning look.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>First, </em><em>watch</em><em> your tone,” he admonished him, before reacting to the hardness in Sam's eyes with a sigh and reaching out to take a slice of bread from the cutting board. “There will be o</em><em>ther</em><em> games, Sam. I will come to one of the next.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Too bad that yesterday was the final f</em><em>or my team," </em><em>the thirteen-year-old insisted, stubborn, finally shoving three forkfuls of potatoes into his mouth, one after the other, as if he intended to use them to stifle the anger that clearly leaked from his voice. “You would know if you deigned to listen to me every now and then.”</em></p>
<p><em>His father pretended not to notice his manners. For a moment, he l</em><em>ooked</em> <em> genuinely amazed and remained so even after his wife nodded in his direction without blam</em><em>ing him</em> <em> but also without the hint of a smile, just to confirm that John could have shown a little more diligence in this regard. Finally, the man limited himself to a second frustrated sigh.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Don't m</em><em>ake a scene,</em><em> now," he said quietly. “Of course I listen to you.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Oh, </em><em>do you</em><em>?” Sam persevered, spurred on by what was now, in his eyes, a head-t</em><em>o-head challenge</em><em>. “T</em><em>hen</em><em> who won yesterday, </em><em>my team</em><em> or the other? I was talking about it at breakfast.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Yours,” John replied without hesitation.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam felt fire on his face.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>W</em><em>rong</em><em>. Se</em><em>e? Y</em><em>ou don't listen to me</em><em>,”</em><em> he retorted, deliberately ignoring the glare with which Dean struck him at that umpteenth objection.</em></p>
<p>“<em>If your team didn't win, then I didn't miss anything,” his father decided at that point, putting the last piece of meat in his mouth.</em></p>
<p><em>He considered Sam's reaction out of the corner of his eye, saw him freeze in place and felt just half an ounce of regret. He didn't want to be so hard, but it had been an exhausting day at work and it was certainly not the first time he had come home thinking he could have </em> <em>a quiet </em> <em>dinner with his family and instead ended up colliding with h</em><em>is youngest son’s</em> <em> provocations.</em></p>
<p><em>Sometimes he thought that Sam did it all with the s</em><em>ole</em> <em> intent of arguing with him. Sometimes he </em> <em>just </em> <em>couldn't find other explanations for his behavior. </em> <em>How could</em> <em> it </em> <em>be </em> <em>possible that the boy still didn't know when his father was too tired to be patient in the face of his t</em><em>eenage</em> <em> bitterness?</em></p>
<p>“<em>John.”</em></p>
<p><em>Mary's call b</em><em>arely</em> <em> r</em><em>eached</em> <em> him. Exhausted, John simply continued eating. What did his wife </em> <em>expect him </em> <em>to do? With Sam, every word seemed to be the wrong one and John sure wasn't going to apologize to that cocky k</em><em>id</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Actually Sam did some terrific passes, </em><em>D</em><em>ad,” Dean intervened then, trying to s</em><em>upport</em><em> his little brother with a gentle n</em><em>udge</em><em> and a proud smile. Dean, always drying </em><em>himself </em><em>up to restore the balance between those two negative poles that were his father and brother. “Like the one a</em><em>t the</em><em> forty-second </em><em>minute</em><em>, isn't t</em><em>hat right</em><em>, Sammy? E</em><em>veryone jumped on their feet for that one</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>John did not see the tiny smile that curled Sam's lips at the e</em>
  <em>ldest</em>
  <em>'s comment. He was breaking his slice of bread meticulously.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I still don't understand why you insisted on joining the s</em><em>occer</em><em> team,” he commented after taking a bite.</em></p>
<p><em>Sam g</em><em>ot</em> <em> immediately </em> <em>back to</em> <em> defensive, </em> <em>while </em> <em>Dean's peacemaking attempt ended in nothing behind him.</em></p>
<p>“<em>What's wrong with s</em><em>occer</em><em> now?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>It is not an educational sport.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>What</em><em>?” the b</em><em>oy</em><em> exclaimed, outraged. “W</em><em>hat about the</em><em> team w</em><em>ork</em><em>, the effort, the dedication?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>An excuse to let others do everything, that's what a s</em><em>occer</em><em> team is,” John persisted. </em><em>He</em><em> had by now abandoned any attempt to restrain himself. Did Sam want to argue at all costs? H</em><em>e should at</em><em> least listen to his opinion. “It doesn't teach you discipline.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>At those words the boy straightened his back, but everyone in that room knew him too well to think it was an act of respect.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Let me guess,” Sam retorted bitterly. “I should have p</em><em>icked</em><em> wrestling. Like Dean.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>John agreed with more conviction than he ever gave Dean in complimenting him on his victories, but neither of his two sons was surprised. It was no news that their father put much more vigor in reproaching than he spent on praise.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Concentration. Tenacity. A healthy solitude in the ring.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>In a word, discipline,” Sam growled.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Yes, Sam. Discipline,” the man confirmed, looking him straight in the eye.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Or, to translate for us m</em><em>ere</em><em> mortals, everything Dean does is divine and everything I do sucks. B</em><em>usiness as usual.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Don't try to put the blame on me,” his father scolded him, even before Mary could intervene to deny everything. “If you worked harder, you could achieve the same results as your brother, do the same things, but your stubbornness...”</em></p>
<p>“<em>My G</em><em>od, I c</em><em>an’t</em><em> believe it!” Sam exclaimed, r</em><em>unning</em><em> a hand through his hair </em><em>nervously</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Not again,” Dean muttered, retreating back in his chair with a disconsolate breath.</em></p>
<p><em>H</em><em>e knew as well as h</em><em>is</em> <em> mother what was about to erupt. Both of them c</em><em>ouldn’t</em> <em> do anything other than exchang</em><em>e </em> <em>a distressed look, before Sam went into a rage against the head of the family.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I don't </em>want<em> to do the same things Dean does! I'm not him and I don't want to be! I just wish that for once, for a change, you would show a little interest in what I do or at least try not to make idiotic excuses when it is clear that you don't give a damn about my fucking s</em><em>occer</em><em> g</em><em>ames</em><em>!”</em></p>
<p><em>The v</em><em>olume</em> <em> of his voice grew until his outburst stopped and </em> <em>only </em> <em>there </em> <em>did </em> <em>his mother tr</em><em>y</em> <em> to intervene for the best.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Sam...”</em></p>
<p><em>But the thirteen-year-old paid no attention to her. With accelerated breathing and </em><em>his </em><em>hands clenched in fists on the table, he did not want to take his eyes off his father, who </em><em>was </em><em>now r</em><em>eturning</em> <em>the move</em> <em>to </em><em>him with a </em><em>serious face</em><em> that had almost always been enough, alone, to m</em><em>ake</em><em> any desire for rebellion </em><em>evaporate </em><em>in Dean. But Sam was a whole other story, he always had been. With him, empty warnings and threats were almost never enough.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Just admit it!” the boy challenged him.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>John took his share of silence. He even wallowed in it, trying to calm down at least a little before replying in an icy tone.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>You are right. I'm not interested in your s</em><em>occer</em><em> matches, and do you know why? Because I know they won't get you anywhere. Wrestling, on the other hand, is forging your brother's body and character, not to mention the fact that </em><em>it </em><em>could earn him a college scholarship next year.”</em></p>
<p><em>That had some effect on Sam, but it was only a</em><em>n instant</em> <em> of weakness. If Sam bowed his head and leaned back in his chair, like his brother, it was only because he was preparing his last attack. Part of him sensed that you need to be prepared, as well as e</em><em>quipped</em><em>, when you dare to want to have the last word with a drill sergeant from the Marine Corps.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Like you give a shit about us getting into college.”</em></p>
<p><em>The s</em><em>entence</em><em>, very understandable although muttered by Sam in the direction of the m</em><em>eat</em> <em> he hadn't even touched, broke the last barricades of his father's patience. </em> <em>After that, the man immediately</em> <em> placed his cutlery firmly on the table.</em></p>
<p>“<em>A</em><em>ll right</em><em>, I've had more than enough of both your attitude and your language,” he s</em><em>tated</em><em>, and then nodded </em><em>with </em><em>his head towards the corridor to his left. “Go to your room.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam gave him a lethal look.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I'm not done e</em><em>ating</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p><em>T</em><em>hat</em> <em> was the last straw. Between a screech of chairs and a knock on the table, </em> <em>his father</em> <em> was on his feet in an instant.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Oh yes, </em><em>you are.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Dad...” Dean tried, while his father, behind him, g</em><em>ot past</em><em> t</em><em>he chair he was sitting on</em><em> with great strides.</em></p>
<p><em>It didn't do any good. John grabbed the back of Sam's chair with both hands, dragged i</em><em>t</em> <em> a</em><em>way from</em> <em> the table and, even before his youngest son had </em> <em>any </em> <em>time to protest, the m</em><em>ark</em> <em> of his open hand was already standing </em> <em>out, </em> <em>red, against the boy's increasingly pale cheek. At the sound of the impact, Dean instinctively closed his eyes, like his mother. With his lips parted on a half c</em><em>ry</em> <em> and his eyes </em>s<em>tinging and shining with unshed tears</em><em>, Sam put a hand to his face, covering the sign of the slap.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I’ve had it up to here with you making a scene every time you feel like it,” John Winchester growled, grabbing his younger son by the arm to force him to get up before pushing him towards the stairs leading to the upper floor. “Now go to your room, unless you want another reminder of how to behave.”</em></p>
<p><em>Sam stumbled, but remained o</em><em>n his feet</em><em>. Then, after hesitating for a moment, he turned back to his father to spit on him all the resentment he had held at the bottom of his throat </em> <em>during the whole</em> <em> argument – because yes, as much as his family might doubt it, Sam always did his best to r</em><em>efrain from saying too much</em><em>. It wasn't his fault that he h</em><em>ad</em> <em> much more b</em><em>itterness</em> <em> than his older brother.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I hate you,” he hissed, his hands clenched in fists at his sides again, before shouting o</em><em>ut</em><em>: “I fucking hate you, I hate you!”</em></p>
<p><em>John's lips became two thin lines, but the man did not move and let Sam run away. The thuds of his quick footsteps on the stairs and a</em><em>long</em> <em> the upstairs corridor preceded the violent slamming of the boys' bedroom door. Dean never knew where he found the p</em><em>resence of mind</em> <em> to wait for his father to sit down again before letting what echoed like a plea </em> <em>echoing</em> <em> in the small dining room.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Can I go to him?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Finish y</em><em>our dinner</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>John had just taken a sip of water. His tone of voice was exhausted and Dean knew it wasn't wise to test him right after one of his fights with Sam, but his protective instincts had a tendency not to give a damn about caution.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I'm not hungry anymore,” he allowed himself to insist then, in little more than a whisper.</em></p>
<p><em>When his father gave </em> <em>in </em> <em>a dejected sigh and raised a hand to rub his forehead, Dean thought he had pushed too f</em><em>ar</em><em>. But a moment later, without looking up, the man motioned him to go and D</em><em>ean</em> <em> found himself hurrying to the base of the stairs without even realizing it. Leaving his parents free to discuss what had just happened, he reached the first floor and the door of the room he shared with Sam with a sense of urgency that oppressed his chest.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>He hated witnessing the fights between his father and his brother, he hated realizing that they were becoming more frequent and violent, he hated not being able to do anything to avoid them. What the heck had happened to his little brother in the past two years, anyway? Damned adolescence.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Dean opened the door without knocking and took a step inside the room. In the dim light, he recognized his brother's body curled up on his bed by the window. With his back to the door, Sam was shaken by sobs that, albeit occasional, made Dean's guts twist.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Sammy...”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>The reply was immediate, grumpy though saturated with the fragility of tears.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Don’t call me Sammy.”</em></p>
<p><em>Dean sighed, closed the door behind h</em><em>imself</em> <em> and reached out to the wall to turn on the light. Then he went to his brother's bed and sat down next to his bent knees.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Come on, let </em><em>me</em><em> t</em><em>ake a look at that,” he</em><em> then encouraged him, reaching out to his little brother's face to make him turn around and expose the affected cheek to the light. Dean checked i</em><em>t</em><em> quickly, aware of Sam's discomfort, then closed the matter with a nod. “</em><em>Y</em><em>ou </em><em>really put your best effort into</em><em> piss</em><em>ing</em><em> him off, t</em><em>hough</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p><em>A</em><em>nnoyed</em><em>, the </em> <em>thirteen</em><em>-year-old sat up and quickly wiped </em> <em>his face with the </em> <em>sleeve of his sweatshirt to d</em><em>ry </em> <em>his tears before m</em><em>oving</em> <em> his knees to his chest.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Just because he can slap me it doesn't mean he's more entitled to be pissed off than I a</em><em>m</em><em>,” he grumbled. “Did you hear what he said?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>I d</em><em>id</em><em>,” Dean nodded, putting his hands in his lap. “But you provoked h</em><em>im</em><em>. And you know how it ends when you provoke h</em><em>im</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p><em>Sam's only reaction was to sink even more into his shoulders and h</em><em>ide</em> <em> behind his stubborn pout.</em></p>
<p>“<em>He's a bastard,” he d</em><em>ared</em><em> to say, taking advantage of the fact that there were no prying ears to limit his outburst.</em></p>
<p>“<em>You have to stop saying that. One day or another i</em><em>t will come out of your mouth</em><em> at the wrong time and then I will not want to be in your shoes,” Dean said blandly, before ignoring Sam's caustic snort and getting closer to his </em><em>brother’s </em><em>defense post. “Come on, b</em><em>itch</em><em>, come here.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Without Sam being able to object in any way – because no doubt Sam would have pretended to want to resist anybody’s hug –, his brother hugged him and then ruffled his hair with his free hand. Now that Sam believed himself to be an adult, Dean could no longer take some weight off his shoulders by making him rest his head in his lap, but that didn't mean there were no other ways he could work his "magic".</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I can't say he's a bastard, but you can call me b</em><em>itch</em><em>?” </em><em>the boy</em><em> complained, </em><em>but </em><em>without h</em><em>olding back.</em></p>
<p><em>Dean grinned, too e</em><em>xperienced</em> <em> to be bothered.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I</em><em>t’s a matter </em><em>of family hierarchy.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Ye</em><em>ah</em><em>,” Sam huffed, sitting up crossi</em><em>ng his legs</em><em>. “G</em><em>ets me every time</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Glad to see him open up to a chat, Dean followed suit, sitting in front of him and shrugging.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>If y</em><em>ou</em><em> just calm</em><em>ed</em><em> down </em><em>a little</em><em>, he would too. Tha</em><em>t’</em><em>s how h</em><em>e</em><em> works.”</em></p>
<p><em>Sam raised an eyebrow, wearing in no time that s</em><em>ceptic</em> <em> expression in which John Winchester read pure and simple impudence.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Yeah, o</em><em>f course</em><em>. As long as I </em><em>do</em><em> everything, even piss, as </em><em>he likes it </em><em>and </em><em>only </em><em>when he </em><em>tells me to</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Dean chuckled, shaking his head.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>You always make such a big deal. Do I look like that to you?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>You're not that far from it,” Sam said promptly, letting a smirk on his face.</em></p>
<p><em>Dean clung to it with all the hope he had, then picked up the gauntlet and o</em><em>ffered Sam something</em> <em> between a smile and a warning before tackling him and engaging in a forced round of wrestling on the mattress in order to protect his honor. Sam reacted right away and, when one of his full and spontaneous laughs rang out in the room, Dean also felt the last knot of apprehension melt inside him.</em></p>
<p><em>The quiet and joy, however, did not last long. Just because Dean was able to cheer him up didn't mean Sam hadn't gotten into trouble. Before the two brothers could even roll out of bed d</em><em>uring</em> <em> their fight, in fact, there was a knock on the door and Sam and Dean broke apart just in time before their father appeared </em> <em>o</em><em>n the doorway, stiff as when he left home wearing h</em><em>is</em> <em> military uniform.</em></p>
<p><em>Both boys sat back up in a flash. The last thing they both needed was to convince the head of the family that they were having fun less than ten minutes after Sam had been sent to his room to </em> <em>think about</em> <em> h</em><em>is poor</em> <em> choices for the evening.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Are you done spitting obscenities?” John Winchester asked immediately, with his eyes on his younge</em><em>st</em><em> son, deciding to ignore the accelerated breathing of both young men. “Can I talk to you t</em><em>rusting</em><em> that you will a</em><em>ct</em><em> civil</em><em>ized</em><em>?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Incredibly, Sam looked down at his hands and just nodded awkwardly.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Very w</em><em>ell,” John declared, without even the shadow of something that could have been mistaken for satisfaction. “You g</em><em>ave me attitude</em><em> repeatedly, at dinner. You d</em><em>idn’t</em><em> show me the slightest respect, so you're grounded. No extra-school a</em><em>ctivities</em><em>. If I h</em><em>eard</em><em> that you have detoured along the school-home route, you’</em><em>re dealing with</em><em> me. Not w</em><em>ith</em><em> your mother and not even w</em><em>ith</em><em> your brother. W</em><em>ith</em><em> me.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam swallowed, looking up at his father.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>For how long?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Two weeks.”</em></p>
<p><em>He must have negotiated with his wife, was what both boys thought. J</em><em>ohn</em> <em> didn't seem at all happy to </em> <em>have bent to</em> <em> that compromise, he must have considered it too lenient.</em></p>
<p><em>A moment after g</em><em>iving</em> <em> the verdict, the man c</em><em>ame forward</em> <em> until he stopped in the space between the two beds. Towering over his younge</em><em>st </em> <em>son, he almost m</em><em>ade</em> <em> Sam re</em><em>treat</em><em>. The boy had to swallow the fear of g</em><em>etting beaten a second time </em><em>to be able to remain motionless even when his father reached out to take his chin and make him lift his face.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>It took Dean a few seconds to understand that John was taking a look at the cheek he had hit. When Sam realized it too, he blushed and freed himself from his parent's grasp.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I'm fine,” he muttered, looking away.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I know you're fine. It was just a slap. You w</em><em>ould deserve more</em><em>, for the arrogance you've been bringing out lately, so tomorrow morning have the decency to thank your mother for keeping me </em><em>from doing what I wanted to,”</em><em> John Winchester retorted coldly.</em></p>
<p><em>He paused, perhaps to wait for an apology that didn't come. Sam – and even Dean, despite having nothing to be forgiven </em> <em>for </em> <em>– did nothing but maintain a submissive attitude in the face of that unspecified threat, not at all e</em><em>ager</em> <em> to find out what had been held back thanks to Mary's intervention. They had begun to feel devoured by unease when their father walked back to the threshold of the room.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Go to bed, both of you. T</em><em>omorrow you’re waking</em><em> up at 0530 and com</em><em>ing</em><em> running with me.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Dean was the first to rise up: “But, Dad...”</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Q</em><em>uiet</em><em>,” John stopped him, turning back to them. “I've loosened my grip too much on you two. It won't happen again.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Unable to curse, Dean slapped his hand on his thigh in a fit of nervousness.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>But what did I do?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>First, you're c</em><em>rying</em><em> like a baby. It's about going </em><em>running </em><em>for an hour at dawn, not a death sentence. It'll do y</em><em>ou</em><em> both good, hothead or not,” his father silenced him, in the tone of one who is p</em><em>utting an end to</em><em> an argument once and for all. “Goodnight, </em><em>boys</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p><em>Dean g</em><em>ave in</em> <em> a painful sigh, </em> <em>but didn’t dare complaining anymore</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Goodnight, Dad.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Fucking militarism,” Sam muttered instead, earning the dismayed look with which his older brother passed him from side to side.</em></p>
<p><em>He had just g</em><em>ot away with it quite smoothly</em><em>, what w</em><em>as going on in his mind now</em><em>? </em> <em>Was he so impatient to commit</em> <em> suicide in the worst, if not the most blatant, way </em> <em>possible</em> <em>? Every nerve in John Winchester's body seemed to promise a total fulfillment of this latter omen.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Excuse me</em><em>?” the man asked indeed, abandoning h</em><em>is</em> <em>false </em><em>stolid </em><em>attitude</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Be quiet, Sammy, for God's sake.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Shut up, Dean,” his father barked at him, before turning back to the y</em><em>oungest</em><em> with fire in his eyes: “Sam</em><em>uel</em><em>, this is the last warning I’</em><em>m giving</em><em> you. You better stop this gratuitous insolence and start b</em><em>ehaving yourself.</em><em> Your mother and I taught you t</em><em>hat</em><em> and believe me, you don't want to convince me that you need me to refresh your memory. A</em><em>re we clear</em><em>, young man?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Later, Dean would have remembered Sam's voice as a low thunder, not so unlike John's.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Yeah.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>I cannot hear you.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Yes, sir,” Sam satisfied him between his teeth.</em></p>
<p><em>The light was t</em><em>urned off</em> <em> with a violent s</em><em>mack</em> <em> that m</em><em>ade</em> <em> the two brothers </em> <em>startle</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>To sleep. All lights out in f</em><em>ive or so help me God, I’ll come back and we’ll have another chat. </em><em>But this time I’ll put you across my knee, since you’</em><em>ve just</em> <em>proved me you’re </em><em>not too old for that</em><em>,” their father o</em><em>rdered</em><em> before slamming the door shut.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Only then Dean could breathe again.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>N</em><em>ice move,</em><em> Sam,” he commented, this time without sparing </em><em>him</em><em> the acerb tone.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>His brother didn't answer him and the darkness covered any expression that had just been painted on his face.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Big thanks to everyone who is following the story and commenting!<br/>This chapter is a big one, I hope you liked and can’t wait to read your opinions.<br/>Here is a note I wanted to leave you: every now and then, in the wake of the enthusiasm that takes me when I write/think/plan/edit this story, I let myself go to slightly anachronistic references. It has happened before and here it happened again: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban – in which I believe there is the first reference ever to those wonders that are Time Turners – was published in 1999.<br/>So it goes without saying that our Sam, smart as he was, wouldn't have had the chance to know anything about it in the spring of 1996. But that sentence about the Time Turner, also put there to prove Sam’s passion for reading and his being a lovely little nerd as well as to provoke John... I liked it too much. So I decided to leave it despite the timing inaccuracy. I hope you will forgive an often too exalted Hufflepuff.<br/>As for the rest, I hereby confess that there are so many things I would like to tell you about the writing of this chapter and about what it hides. But they would be unforgivable spoilers, so I'll have to hold back – at least for a few more chapters.<br/>In conclusion, I will be here waiting for your opinions, hypotheses, questions, anything. I love when we can have a conversation. So take care and see you soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Not the fun kind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>The following Sunday, Sam woke up in the guest bedroom – and future nursery – of the Novak-Winchester home surrounded by a soft feeling of good humor.</p>
<p>The week just that had just finished hadn't been so bad: despite continuing to find the psychotherapy sessions with Charlie useless and annoying, with Sam’s return to work Dean and Cas had stopped breathing down his neck like he was a teenager in a hormonal crisis. Besides, Sam and Donna had started talking to each other again. With caution, first in a low voice, then with the same smiles they had exchanged at the beginning of their friendship, they made up with each other. They now discussed light topics, had a coffee at the vending machines in the middle of the afternoon and Sam felt pampered by that little interlude of serenity. He was relieved to be able to enjoy the opportunity to distract himself from his increasingly troublesome thoughts, at least during the hours he spent behind the library desk.</p>
<p>But the sense of well-being of that January 10<sup> th </sup> did not last long.</p>
<p>Sam was supposed to be at Gabriel's house by four o'clock that afternoon. He and Luc had agreed on that specific time. But after lunch, Dean and Castiel decided to celebrate Agnes's entry into the third trimester of her pregnancy with one of their more and more common marathons of their hottest new game, affectionately renamed <em> It </em> <em> is </em> <em> time to find a name for the incoming b</em><em>aby boy or girl</em>, and Sam couldn't resist their invitation to join them.</p>
<p>The result was that, between a Thea and an Ian, between a Milo and a Jude, Sam lost track of time and found himself getting on the bus to Salisbury Willows almost half an hour late. When he finally arrived in front of Gabriel's door, the delay had increased to an abundance of three quarters of an hour and Sam, seized with anxiety, found himself rushing into the apartment as soon as the landlord opened the door.</p>
<p>“My goodness, Sam,” Gabriel, looking at him with worry. “What happened to you?”</p>
<p>The boy wore a pomegranate red shirt over a pair of black pants, had trimmed the exterior lines of his beard and combed his golden brown hair back; every little detail of his appearance suggested he was about to enjoy a night out. Part of Sam thought he might compliment him for the look, but the panic at the thought of keeping Luc waiting quickly took over.</p>
<p>“Is… is Luc here already?” he gasped, taking off his jacket with a few jerks of his arms.</p>
<p>Gabriel went towards him and, calm in a way that enhanced Sam's agitation even more, took his coat from his hands and nodded with a frown.</p>
<p>“He's upstairs waiting for you. But...”</p>
<p>As if his heart pounding in his throat and lack of oxygen weren't enough, Sam felt he had lost a few years of life there, at the base of the stairs, at the sound of that confirmation. A moment later, he was already running up the steps to the upper floor, taking three at a time.</p>
<p>“Sorry!” was all he allowed himself to shout at Gabriel, before leaving him there, stunned.</p>
<p>When he entered Gabriel's bedroom and saw Luc sitting on the edge of the mattress, legs apart, elbows resting on his thighs, fingers intertwined and staring at him, Sam knew he had better hurry to shut the door behind his back. Or that, in a futile attempt not to allow Gabriel to hear what was about to happen, or running away, and he simply could not run. He had asked for everything that was happening to him. Wasn’t he the one who had wanted to go back to Luc, he who had wanted to meet him again and start over? And it was his fault that he was late. He was incorrigible, a recidivist.</p>
<p>When Luc sprinted at him and grabbed him by the arm to hold him still as he hit him in the face once, twice, thrice, Sam kept his lips pressed together in fear that, if only a moan had escaped his mouth, it would had made Luc's rage even more burning.</p>
<p>When Luc pushed him hard against the wall, Sam knew he deserved it. But he couldn't stop something that sounded a lot like a scream from escaping his lips as he banged his temple against the wall before sliding to the ground. Luc gave him just the time to curl up on himself before starting to move towards him with the pace of someone who is not done yet. Sam closed his eyes tight, feeling the sobs crawl up his throat and make him jump.</p>
<p>No, no, he must not. That would have angered Luc even more.</p>
<p>
  <em>No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...</em>
</p>
<p>Clutching his knees to his chest, Sam buried his head in his arms, squeezed his eyelids, and stood there, waiting for the rest of his punishment to fall from Luc's hands. He felt the other man approaching, from one second to the next he would have felt the grip of his fingers tightening around his cotton shirt to pull him to his feet and go on with what he deserved. Or maybe it would have been kicks. He wasn't ready – no matter how many times that was meant to happen, he would have never been ready – but he thought knowing what would have happened would have helped him get to the end, maybe even keeping his mouth shut. He sensed that Luc was bending over him and gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt.</p>
<p>And then someone knocked on the door and everything stopped. They were gentle, though sharp knocks, and Sam parted his lips in disbelief and opened his eyes in time to see Luc turn to the threshold in maximum alert mode.</p>
<p>“Is everything okay in there?” Gabriel's hesitant voice emerged in the absolute silence that had been created. He didn't wait long for an answer: “I heard a noise. Well,” he broke off for a moment, and for some reason Sam could imagine him moistening his lips and overcoming his embarrassment with a quick nod of his head, “not one of the ordinary ones. Not the fun kind of noise, if you know what I mean.”</p>
<p>Sam had only come face to face with Gabriel three times up to that day, but he had already figured out which mechanisms fed the boy's gab. When Gabriel was comfortable, his speeches focused on quality. His comments were timely, shrewd, disarming. When something alarmed him, however, it was the number of words he uttered that grew out of control.</p>
<p>Luc was immediately beside the threshold. After glancing at Sam both to warn him and to make sure the corner the boy had huddled in wasn't visible from beyond the door, he just opened it and greeted his childhood friend's puzzled gaze with an apologetic smile. More innocent than cotton candy.</p>
<p>“I'm afraid in the heat of the moment we made some of your books fall, Gabe. We’ll put them back immediately. Anyway everything is fine, nobody got hurt.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Okay. No problem for the books,” Gabriel replied, still a little bewildered as he put his hand to the back of his neck and gave a clumsy greeting. “Then I'll leave you to... each other. You can find me downstairs, should you need anything.”</p>
<p>Though he couldn't see him, Sam knew he sensed something was wrong. He, as he was sitting on the ground with his every nerve tense, hadn't shown up or added a single word to Luc's explanation, and Gabriel wasn't stupid. On the contrary, Sam did not remember ever being confronted with more dazzling with intelligence eyes. Eyes that surely must had hesitated to give up when Luc had come up with that excuse.</p>
<p>Sam didn't really realize how right he was about Gabriel until Luc left, which happened right after Sam had satisfied his cravings in that bed which was not theirs. There were no more beatings, that day. Luc didn't want to push his luck with Gabriel's suspicions, Sam realized.</p>
<p>Luc proved hasty that day. He got dressed and trotted down the stairs before Sam found enough will to sit down. Luc left him there naked, Sam’s body still shaken by accelerated breathing, abandoned on the mattress, his skin shiny with the sweat of both of them and his eyes fixed on the ceiling.</p>
<p>When the twenty-six-year-old had finally regained the strength he needed to get back on his feet and put on his underwear, jeans, undershirt and sweater, Luc was already in the car and had left the driveway several minutes earlier, leaving behind nothing but the deafening silence that had accompanied their race towards an orgasm that Sam had submitted and surrendered to, rather than enjoying it fully.</p>
<p>As he changed the sheets of the bed, Sam noticed that his head was victim of a slight but firm whirl. He blamed the blow he'd taken a few dozen minutes earlier and continued to take care of those little manual tasks that had always calmed his mind – slip in the pillowcases, fluff the pillows, adjust the corners of the sheet, spread the autumn-colored blanket. He blamed that for remembering too late that Luc hadn't even kissed him goodbye and that, even more bizarrely, Sam himself had been too distracted by the relief of seeing him satisfied to feel bad about it.</p>
<p>Once the room was tidied and aired, the boy took a deep breath and ventured towards the ground floor. He walked slowly down the stairs, pausing on one step at a time, not at all eager to find out with what expression Gabriel would have greeted him. Mercy, confusion, or perhaps accusation? Sam didn't want to find out. He didn't know how he would react to Gabriel’s disappointment, coupled with what Luc had shown him so blatantly.</p>
<p>And what if Gabriel had decided that what he had guessed was too much, that he didn't want to have anything to do with that story anymore? Sam found himself feeling his heartbeat quicken in fear, at that thought. But something even worse could have happened.</p>
<p>Gabriel could have reacted like Cas, like Dean. He could have decided that he knew what was best for Sam, he could have tried to impose himself on him and then Sam would have had no choice but to oust him from his life as he had done with his family. At that thought, a veil of terror chilled the sweat on him.</p>
<p>He was so immersed in those thoughts that he did not realize he had landed in the tiny space of the entrance.</p>
<p>“How's it going, Sam?”</p>
<p>Gabriel's clear voice tore him out of his mind's content with a jolt. When Sam turned to the kitchen, the sight of Gabriel over the counter, serving himself a cup of hot tea with a placid smile on his lips, looked almost anachronistic. But the youngest of the two knew too well the role he had stuck to himself. So he just instinctively took advantage of what seemed to him the biggest stroke of luck of the century. No signs of pity, no confusion, much less accusation on Gabriel's face. With those cards in hand, Sam knew he could take the risk of betting on himself.</p>
<p>“Great,” he replied with a smile that trembled imperceptibly. “Couldn't be better.”</p>
<p>Gabriel's smile, on the other hand, was barely accentuated.</p>
<p>“I don't mean to sound rude, but judging from your face it would seem quite the opposite,” he commented without altering the naturalness of his light tone, and only following the nod of his head did Sam realize that he had spent the last seconds absent-mindedly massaging the temple he had hit against the wall when Luc had pushed him.</p>
<p>Subjected to the gentle investigation of Gabriel's eyes, he stopped instantly, swallowed and parted his lips, frantically searching for some words with which to fix the oversight.</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah. Earlier, I… I tripped and hit the shelf, the lowest one,” he finally explained, pointing at his temple with a quick gesture. “I was the one making the books fall. I'm sorry.”</p>
<p>“No biggie. They're just books, they don't mind,” Gabriel replied, shrugging his shoulders.</p>
<p>His relaxed attitude, however, was shaken when Sam thought it best to take advantage of it to point to the built-in wardrobe which also contained his jacket.</p>
<p>“Uh-uh,” Gabriel stopped him, putting down the cup of tea with which, in his haste to intervene, he had just burned his tongue. “Where do you think you're going?”</p>
<p>He threw the question there with a tone that was not intimidating at all, but for some reason Sam perceived it as peremptory enough to cause him to stop with his hand around the door knob. The still air between them was filled with the cheerful and delicate melody that Fools Garden had given to <em>Lemon Tree </em>and Sam noticed only then that the stereo was still on.</p>
<p>“Um... home?” he tried, disoriented.</p>
<p>Gabriel shook his head as if Sam had just turned down a portion of his homemade dessert.</p>
<p>“Not so fast. First, let's put some ice on that. You should have let me know as soon as it happened,” he decreed, pointing back to where Sam had hit his head. Then he turned and fumbled with the freezer drawers in time to pull out a bag that could have been passed off as emergency dry ice from that distance. “Here, come on.”</p>
<p>Sam hesitated, transferring the weight of his body from one foot to the other with a dumbfounded and embarrassed look on his face.</p>
<p>“There is no need, Gabe. Really, I...”</p>
<p>He gave up on that attempt to slip away as soon as Gabriel put a hand on his hip and assumed a pose that was so paternal that it dried the words right on Sam’s tongue.</p>
<p>“Listen, Sam,” the landlord sighed, soft but resolute. “I'm an extremely condescending guy, okay? I think I can confidently say that there are infinite circumstances in which I would be perfectly comfortable taking no for an answer. But geez, too bad, this isn't one of them. That needs this, so hop hop,” he decreed, waving the hand holding the bag of frozen peas in the direction of Sam's head.</p>
<p>It was the other boy’s turn to draw a sigh, in this case to surrender.</p>
<p>“You would make a great parent, has anyone ever told you?” he muttered then, as he gave up and began to take a few, not at all enthusiastic steps towards the kitchen.</p>
<p>At those words, Gabriel's smile became brightly pleased.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As you may have realized reading this chapter, by now I hate the idea of spending too many words for Luc and for all the harm he causes to Sam. So I listened to my desire of summarizing the part where he still rages against him. I hope you appreciate that *suffer suffer*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Old habits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>“Put your butt on the chair, cowboy, so I can pretend I am of average height,” Gabriel urged playfully, pulling one of the two stools from under the counter to place it in front of Sam.</p>
<p>Having by now surrendered to the situation, the twenty-six-year-old obeyed without another word. He sat down, closed his eyes and kept quiet and still while Gabriel proceeded to apply the frozen bag to the right side of his face after wrapping it in a clean towel.</p>
<p>“Well, it wasn't that hard, was it? I look terrifying, I know, but I don't bite. Not until after the first date, at least. At most, I am a pain in the ass or an apprehensive mommy,” Gabriel teased him, stopping only when he was able to draw a smile on Sam's lips.</p>
<p>An instant later, however, the smile turned into a grimace of pain that, however quick to disappear, worried Gabriel to the point of making him release the pressure on Sam’s temple.</p>
<p>“Does it hurt?” he asked in a more serious tone.</p>
<p>“Only when you press harder.”</p>
<p>“Hm,” Gabriel considered with an analytical look. “Are you dizzy?”</p>
<p>“A little bit,” Sam murmured, opting for the truth.</p>
<p>“Come, then, I'll help you lie down,” the other one decreed, withdrawing the ice to offer him a hand. When Sam hesitated, remaining seated, the landlord performed one of his enviable eyebrow games: “What is it? Do you have other dates in the city?”</p>
<p>“I don’t,” Sam allowed, agreeing to walk towards the sofa, however embarrassed by the other boy's proximity. “But I promised my brother I would be back in time for dinner.”</p>
<p>“Well, you're still quite a bit early. And I doubt you want to go home still feeling unstable on your legs, am I right?” Gabriel continued, bolstering his case while he watched Sam lie down slowly. Then he handed the boy a cushion to put under his head and placed the makeshift dry ice on his temple again, letting go of the cold bundle only when Sam reached out to support it by himself. “All right. Hold it up, okay? Take your time, there’s no rush. It's only six o'clock and I can always take you home by car. Give yourself ten minutes to calm down and let the merry-go-round stop.”</p>
<p>Faced with the usual stream of words, Sam couldn't help but smile slyly.</p>
<p>“Yes, Mom,” he teased him, and turned his gaze to Gabriel in time to see him giggle.</p>
<p>“Careful,” the thirty-one-year-old jokingly warned him.</p>
<p>“I thought you were going out,” Sam said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.</p>
<p>Gabriel, who until then had been crouched next to him, seemed to find relief in placing his knees on the ground and sitting on his heels, while reaching out on the table to take the stereo remote control and turn the volume down to the minimum.</p>
<p>“Nah. I’ll have one of my nights on the sofa with Momo.”</p>
<p>Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow: “Do you always dress like this for your nights on the sofa?”</p>
<p>Gabriel gave him one of those smiles with which he seemed to want to soothe the world.</p>
<p>“Actually, I was planning on going out. But then I changed my mind,” he confessed in a more modest tone, without taking his gaze away from Sam's eyes.</p>
<p>Sam felt himself sinking into the sofa cushions and wished the parquet floor swallowed him instantly. He certainly did not need Gabriel's sagacity to understand the true meaning of that glance. Namely that the landlord's change of plans must had been decided when the man had not felt at all reassured by the explanation provided by Luc for the infamous noise that had shaken the first floor.</p>
<p>Sam had to force himself not to look away and felt his mouth turn to sand when he opened his lips again to ask: “Why?”</p>
<p>Gabriel smiled at him again, then – thank God – he turned his attention to the bag of frozen peas that Sam was letting slip from his fingers. As he shrugged, he put it back in its place with a thoughtful touch.</p>
<p>“Laziness, more than anything else,” he justified himself.</p>
<p>Sam stood still. Why was Gabriel lying? The inability to understand that choice was leading him to the limits of daze. If he had kept struggling like that, he would have ended up saying something he must not and...</p>
<p>“It wasn't his fault,” he declared a few seconds later, in a hoarse voice that seemed to scratch the bottom of his throat.</p>
<p>His words had escaped before he could even think of keeping his mouth shut forever. And even before Sam was able to think about the possibility of remedying, of trying to get back to breathing normally, so that he could find his own voice, Gabriel reacted with an unnatural calm, keeping his gaze fixed on the ice bag he had resumed holding.</p>
<p>“I don't recall saying anything about anyone's faults.”</p>
<p>They both knew who they were referring to and the living room had never felt so cold.</p>
<p>Sam swallowed. He was now at stake and there was no way to get out of the dance floor remaining tense and closed in on himself. After all, Gabriel was taking care of Luc's handiwork, for God's sake.</p>
<p>“But what you thought is a different story,” he croaked, barely audible.</p>
<p>When Gabriel shot him that look, pointed like an arrow, that look that seemed to say "You have no idea what goes through my mind", Sam thought the time he had begun to fear when he was still on the stairs had finally come. The moment Gabriel would have followed Dean's example, the moment he would have accused Luc of all the sins of the world, the moment he would have told Sam he must be out of his mind to stay with him, that he should have ditched him and run away before ending up in the worst way at the hands of his boyfriend. The moment when Sam would have had to give up the meticulous care that Gabriel was offering him to protect his own truth, the only one that kept him afloat. That is to say that Luc belonged to him and he belonged to Luc, and if his boyfriend happened to raise his hands against him it was just because Sam had been asking for it, because Sam was irreverent and he disobeyed even when he was given the simplest instructions. It was his worst vice, so it had to be corrected.</p>
<p>Sam feared that moment. He got along well with Gabriel, he didn't want to have to kick him away like he had done with Dean and Cas. But he would have, if he had had to. He was prepared for that eventuality.</p>
<p>He was already gathering up the energy he needed to pretend his headache was gone and sneak out of that cozy house, when Gabriel surprised him. He amazed him by replying to his provocation with one of his funny faces and his incorrigible chatter.</p>
<p>“What I think is that I should start keeping real ice in the freezer. When one of my guests hits a corner, I always end up taking a bag of peas out of the freezer, with the result that I then have to eat them. And I end up looking like an adult, when I eat vegetables. Brr.”</p>
<p>He had changed the subject. Sam hadn't had to do anything and suddenly, without even realizing it, he relaxed in the ease of that digression.</p>
<p>“Legumes,” he whispered.</p>
<p>“What?” Gabriel said, frowning.</p>
<p>“Peas are legumes, not vegetables,” Sam specified, looking for his eyes with the same caution as a moment before for fear that the main topic would become another one.</p>
<p>Gabriel smiled.</p>
<p>“You passed the test, freshman,” he nodded, then removed the ice from Sam's temple to take a look at the condition of his skin. “You could take the bag home with you, if you wanted. So you could hold it on the bus too. I certainly wouldn't miss it.”</p>
<p>“No, that's okay,” Sam said with a sigh. “I'll get a bruise anyway.”</p>
<p>Once again, Gabriel seemed to have an easy time ignoring all the imaginable backstories of that sentence, including Sam's extensive culture about bruising.</p>
<p>“It’s already there,” he observed instead, approaching to scrutinize the strip of skin. “Do you want me to cover it?”</p>
<p>It took Sam a moment too long to recover from the way Gabriel had bent over him. He had come closer with a gratuitous spontaneity whose lack of discomfort Sam could not say he shared. When the woody notes of the cologne Gabriel must had sprinkled on him reached the boy’s nostrils, Sam felt his cheeks heat up and lost the meaning of the last words.</p>
<p>“E-excuse me?”</p>
<p>“I asked if you want me to cover the bruise,” Gabriel repeated. He had retreated back to the coffee table and was now studying Sam’s bewildered expression carefully. “Gosh, you must have hit your head pretty hard, huh?”</p>
<p>When he placed the back of his hand on the other’s forehead to rule out a case of fever, the situation for Sam only got worse.</p>
<p>“M-maybe it would be better,” the boy stumbled on his words, withdrawing a little. “To cover it, I mean. The bruise. Otherwise my brother will think that...”</p>
<p>He didn't finish the sentence and Gabriel just widened his smile in a way that made his eyes sparkle.</p>
<p>“Older brothers. What an invention, huh?” he commented.</p>
<p>“Do you... do you have one too?” Sam asked.</p>
<p>“No, I don’t. Much worse, I can guarantee you,” Gabriel almost sang, jumping to his feet before giving a sardonic grin to his guest: “I <em>am</em> one of those ugly beasts.”</p>
<p>And before Sam could put together any sentence to assure him he had nothing against older brothers, Gabriel preceded him with his usual pleasant tone: “I'll be back in a flash. I will get you some tea in the meantime, okay? Drinking something hot will do you some good.”</p>
<p>Since the cup appeared in his hands in a blink – Gabriel could move at an unreasonable speed, when well motivated –, Sam didn’t object and took a few sips of the mint flavored infusion while Gabriel made a quick trip upstairs. Recognizing the brew he had tasted the previous week, Sam gladly drank it and sat down a few seconds before his host returned. It seemed that the frozen peas, the tea and that little bit of rest had accomplished their little miracle: now the room appeared much more still around him, as was the floor on which he placed the soles of his feet.</p>
<p>When Gabriel sat down next to him and began to fumble with the small bottles he had retrieved, Sam's forehead wrinkled.</p>
<p>“Why do you have foundation in the house?”</p>
<p>They both knew Gabriel could have found a thousand valid excuses to offer. He could have said that over time he had become a theatrical makeup expert, that disguises were a fundamental part of his passion for the stage, but no. Gabriel decided not to take advantage of the fact that Sam would have believed any version of the story. Instead he opted to reveal to him at least a little of the truth that was hidden behind the grimace with which he reacted, the one that he was unable to turn into yet another smile.</p>
<p>“I guess old habits die hard,” he muttered a moment before placing his left hand on Sam's shoulder to balance himself as he used his right one to apply concealer first and then a pinch of foundation on the youngest boy’s bluish temple.</p>
<p>Sam remained motionless and let him work, while his mind worked at full capacity to understand that surge of sincerity and the sudden and momentary drop of light in Gabriel's eyes. Somehow, by glossing over the subject instead of talking about it openly, he scared Sam more than he cheered him up. The young man was considering asking him more questions – just to be sure he really had understood correctly and that Gabriel wasn't by chance referring to a glorious past as a drag queen – when Gabe put on a satisfied expression and stopped tapping with his index finger on and all around his temple. As soon as the makeup was done, he turned back to Sam with the confidence of an experienced nurse.</p>
<p>“Try to drink a lot of water and keep your vitamin C doses high. It will vanish sooner.”</p>
<p>Sam moistened his lips, again running out of words.</p>
<p>“How do you know these things?”</p>
<p>“Just like you knew you'd get a bruise, I guess. That's it,” Gabriel retorted smoothly, screwing the caps back on the bottles before making them roll into the hands that Sam was holding in his lap. “Keep them. In case you need them later on.”</p>
<p>Sam squeezed the two vials between his fingers before slipping them into his jeans pockets.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he nodded shyly.</p>
<p>When he looked up, Gabe's lips had regained their benevolent fold.</p>
<p>“May I offer you anything else?”</p>
<p>“No, really. Thank you for everything, you were far too kind,” Sam made sure to clarify as he got up from the couch and Gabriel was preparing to imitate him. “But I must go now.”</p>
<p>“Maybe it would be better if I got you home? What if I called your brother to come and get you?” Gabriel inquired, and it was Sam's turn to smile to disengage him.</p>
<p>“I just took a blow, Gabe. I’ll survive twenty minutes on a bus.”</p>
<p>Gabriel winked.</p>
<p>“I’ll just have to trust your instinct for self-preservation on that, then,” he commented, accompanying him to the entrance to return his coat. “See you next Sunday.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded with a forced smile.</p>
<p>“See you on Sunday.”</p>
<p>As soon as he was in the driveway and began to march purposefully towards the bus stop, braving the chill of the evening with his nose tucked into his coat collar and his hands in his pockets, Sam let the new burden of anguish born from some of Gabriel distort his face. He was no longer smiling kindly. He was thinking with the voracity of a scientist.</p>
<p>
  <em>How do you know these things?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Just like you knew you’d get a bruise, I guess. </em>
</p>
<p>The reason why Sam knew that a bruise would blossom from the impact with the wall on which Luc had thrust him – and the colors it would have been and the approximate time it would have taken to heal – were the beatings he had gotten used to during the last couple of months. What was Gabriel's excuse? What was <em> he </em> hiding?</p>
<p>While he stamped his feet to keep warm while waiting for line 17 to get a move on, Sam could only travel with his memory and remember all the comments that had led him to want to know more about Gabriel, about Luc, about what they had shared. Because some of those jokes had made him sure that theirs wasn't just a high school friendship like so many others. If Sam hadn't investigated until then, it was because what had been happening to him lately already provided him with enough material to lose his sleep. He didn't really need any more problems, any more mysteries. But now it was different. Now Gabriel had come up with those sentences, and without giving explanations, without quickly erasing them with his usual irony.</p>
<p>
  <em>Sam, Gabriel Hale. A colossal asshole to whom I probably owe my life.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>We were very good friends in high school. We had one of those bonds that I don't think get ever completely broken.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>We've been through a lot together. And by "been through", I mean we survived when we didn't even know if we would have managed to.</em>
</p>
<p>Sam jumped on the bus and took the first place behind the driver. His brow was frowned and his eyes, fixed on the street, couldn’t even see the figures of the people passing by. His synapses were chasing a completely different mission.</p>
<p>What kind of past did Gabriel and Luc share?</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am so happy I was finally able to insert a hurt/comfort Sabriel scene! It is just the first, anyway. And I really can't tell you how much I needed it.<br/>Thoughts, sensations, doubts on this chapter? I can’t wait to know what you think about this now that things are starting to move faster!<br/>About that, big thanks to everyone following the story and leaving kudos and comments. You warm my heart.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. So, you want to play?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>“You look out of sorts today, Sam. Is everything alright?” Gabriel noticed, breaking the silence which had been established by his guest as he slipped the last piece of his second apricot into his mouth.</p>
<p>Sam, who was on his fourth sip of his now habitual mint tea, couldn't blame him. He knew all too well the offended and irreducible expression that took control of his features every time an argument with his brother put hot coals under the soles of his shoes, forcing him to leave the house in a hurry.</p>
<p>Not for nothing had he arrived at Gabriel's door at two in the afternoon, three hours earlier than the time he had agreed with Luc. And of course it was all Dean’s fault, him and his bossy way of managing things. Sam refused to admit – even to himself – that the curiosity about what he had been mulling over during the whole week was behind that heavy upheaval of schedules. Not to mention – God forbid! – the possibility that even the desire to spend some time with Gabriel had played a not marginal role in the incident.</p>
<p>“It's nothing. Just another argument with Dean and Cas,” the twenty-six year old declared, annoyed, as a proof of his stubbornness. A moment later, remembering that Gabriel had no way of knowing who he was talking about, he specified: “My brother and brother-in-law.”</p>
<p>When he shrugged, he focused his attention on a flaw in the seam of the sofa that had nearly adopted it. Sam had never sat anywhere else in the living room, not when the choice had been his. In his mind, that one was <em>his</em> sofa for the time he spent there, while the other one, the opposite one, was Gabriel's. Even at that moment the landlord was looking at him from there, with his legs crossed, a pillow in his lap and the fingers of his left hand busy massaging his own ankle – his right hand was intended to grant him free access to the apricots.</p>
<p>Here, Gabriel had just bent over to the table to grab his third one. At the same time, he tossed one into Sam's lap and the boy didn't hesitate. He took the fruit to his mouth and took a bite of it even before Gabe had enough time to dedicate the same attention to his.</p>
<p>“Would you like to talk about it?” the thirty-one-year-old suggested, with his mouth full and his relaxed attitude on.</p>
<p>If there was one thing Sam loved about Gabriel's questions, it was that they didn't have the effect of all the other questions. They didn't sound like questions, but more like invitations to which he could easily say no and nothing would have changed in the peaceful atmosphere of the afternoon. It was that small but brilliant detail that made Sam want to reply to each of the other boy's suggestions.</p>
<p>“Let's just say that we don’t share the same opinion regarding the usefulness of the shrink appointments that Cas strongly recommended. My brother-in-law is a psychotherapist and my brother... well, my brother married him, so obviously my protests and I are outnumbered.”</p>
<p>Gabe chuckled at that conclusion, as if he genuinely found it funny. It wasn't the first time he had done it. It was only thanks to him that Sam was rediscovering how pleasant it was to be able to share that kind of complicity with a person. How long had it been since someone last laughed with him?</p>
<p>“Why don't you think the therapy is useful?”</p>
<p>The question, posed with the same lightness as the previous one, was so timely that Sam allowed himself some time to better investigate the face and posture of the person who was becoming his friend, as well as Luc's. Or at least, Gabriel didn't seem to mind Sam's company, even if the boy showed up at his house at various times.</p>
<p>Contrary to the previous visit, this time Gabriel had welcomed Sam in a pair of sweatpants and a soft sweatshirt with a band logo – or was it a TV series? – that Sam didn't know. It was clear as day that Gabriel had no intention of leaving the house, that day. Sam would have expected to feel nervous about it, because his presence would have increased the likelihood of Luc's lid being completely blown off. But incredibly, all that Sam had perceived, in the moment he had realized that chain of possible contributing causes, had been a warm relief in his belly which, however, he had not allowed himself to analyse further.</p>
<p>It was that same feeling of confidence that convinced him to speak after only a few seconds.</p>
<p>“It's not that Charlie is obnoxious or anything. It's just that I can never really feel comfortable talking to her. So I end up being silent most of the time, with her inventing a thousand different questions and exercises a week in an attempt to get something out of me,” he confided, reaching out to put the apricot kernel into the apposite bowl Gabe had placed on the table. Then he retreated against the back of the sofa, bringing his cup of tea to his chest to examine the vapors. “I have a feeling we're not going anywhere. But Cas is telling me to resist, to give her a little more time and trust, while Dean...”</p>
<p>“What about Dean?” Gabriel encouraged him when the youngest stopped.</p>
<p>Sam shifted his attention to his alert and clear eyes, the color of a glass of whiskey exposed to sunlight.</p>
<p>“Dean says I'm an idiot, because according to him I'm not even trying.”</p>
<p>Gabriel reacted with an amused snort that had an aftertaste of awareness, before settling himself better in the center of the sofa and taking the time to finish his own apricot. It took a few seconds for him to meet Sam's expectations.</p>
<p>“It is true that you need to be willing to get involved, in these cases,” he commented, limpid but without a single trace of irony. Even though Sam knew little about him, it always had a strange effect on him to see him put aside his contemptuous identity, even if only briefly. “I don't know why your family is pushing you to seek professional help of this kind, but it is undeniable that it’s difficult to help those who do not want to be helped. And in the psychological field it becomes impossible, don't you think?”</p>
<p>Far from telling him that the apogee of his psychologist's investigation was Luc, Sam let himself be carried away by curiosity and frowned as he dared to ask: “Are you speaking from your own experience?”</p>
<p>That was when Gabriel drew back, albeit so slightly that Sam almost failed to notice. He raised his eyebrows, as if he hadn't expected his guest to dare so much, and let out a sigh as he reached out to retrieve his cup, still at its fullest, from the table. Before regaining the strength to speak again, he took a long sip of mint infusion and gave his interlocutor a smile that tasted acrid.</p>
<p>“Next question?”</p>
<p>Although hit by that first real brake imposed by Gabriel, Sam did not allow himself to fail. He had his goal for the day distinct in his mind, he'd had it for days, and even if Gabriel had dug in behind a security wall of his own, the quest would still have a chance to yield something.</p>
<p>“I've been thinking about it for days, actually,” he said promptly.</p>
<p>One of Gabe's eyebrows snapped up again, a spark of irony already charged, ready to detonate, in those witty eyes.</p>
<p>“About the next question?”</p>
<p>“About a question I would like to ask you,” Sam confirmed, squeezing the hot cup tighter before throwing himself over the precipice. “I would like you to tell me about Luc.”</p>
<p>Gabriel gave him a look that he would have liked to pass for perplexity, but seemed almost embittered.</p>
<p>“About the man you have been together with for six months and whom I have not seen for more than thirteen years? Don't you think you're making things a little bit difficult for poor old me?”</p>
<p>“I don't want you to tell me about the Luc I know,” Sam corrected him, becoming more and more receptive to his reactions as the request became more specific. “I would like to know what he was like as a teenager, in high school. What sports did he play, how did you two become friends, what classes he attended to prepare for college, what bad foods he ate and so on.”</p>
<p>After another quiet sip of the brew, Gabe paused to return the same investigative look that Sam wore.</p>
<p>“Why don't you ask <em>him</em> these things?”</p>
<p>Pressed by those unusually serious eyes, Sam did his best not to let the slightest hesitation show through.</p>
<p>“Because every time I tried, he curled up in a ball. It took me two months only to find out that he is an only child and after that time he never unzipped his mouth, not even to reveal his mother's name to me.”</p>
<p>Gabriel looked down at the ground and accepted the explanation with an affirmative nod, not at all surprised as he decided to ignore the transparency with which Sam was showing his emotions now. From the boy’s last words it was clear that he was sensitive to his boyfriend’s lack of pillow talk.</p>
<p>After that, Gabriel began to move with extreme caution. Starting with the way the landlord looked back at him, he reminded Sam of a cat wandering into unfamiliar territory, testing the ground with each step before deciding that the risk of resting its paw there was worth taking.</p>
<p>“I think there's a very specific reason why Luc never told you much about that time o his life, Sam,” he said first, quiet, slow and gentle as a caress.</p>
<p>Once again, Sam didn't let that implied warning stop him.</p>
<p>“I believe so too. And I think it's the same reason you're holding back from telling me about it now,” he persevered, continuing to keep Gabriel's eyes anchored to his own.</p>
<p>Yielding for a moment to his playful self, the eldest made a guilty expression, although managing not to appear sincerely sorry.</p>
<p>“Guilty as charged.”</p>
<p>Sam felt a knot of anger and disappointment stir in his stomach.</p>
<p>“So that's it? I will never know anything and thank you very much?” he snapped, to which Gabe shrugged.</p>
<p>“The past is the past. Why do you care so much?”</p>
<p>To Sam it seemed more like a provocation than a consolation and he reacted by leaning forward a little to give more importance to his words.</p>
<p>“Because I want to get closer to Luc. Understand him better.”</p>
<p>One of his smiles escaped Gabriel’s lips, but Sam couldn't decipher if it was one of those hot-stamped ones or just one of their pantomimes. The landlord stared at his guest's stubborn expression for an amount of time that seemed eternal to Sam, as if he wanted to insist enough to break through some armored door or reach the core of Sam's soul. But finally he capitulated and did so with a theatrical sigh.</p>
<p>“All right. May my tender heart be damned,” he happily blamed himself, running a hand through his hair, uneasy in the solemn atmosphere that had thickened. “I'll tell you what we'll do.”</p>
<p>Sam allowed a spark of hope to creep into the folds of his tenacity.</p>
<p>“Will you tell me about it?”</p>
<p>The fact that he hadn't grasped the process that had led Gabriel to change his mind didn't mean that he wasn't going to take advantage of it and reap the rewards. To curb his renewed enthusiasm, the other man’s new practical and unshakable approach took care of it.</p>
<p>“First you will have to vow to accept the rules that apply in this house about this kind of matters,” Gabriel announced.</p>
<p>Sam frowned cautiously. What was that all about?</p>
<p>“What kind of rules?” he asked.</p>
<p>“We'll make a deal. We will both commit to make a fair trade,” Gabriel replied serenely, leaving his cup on the table that separated the two sofas once again. Immediately after that, that magical and indefinable something that always preceded one of his most uninhibited statements began to shine in his eyes. “Sam, I have a soft spot for anything that smells confidential. I love both telling and hearing secrets. But I shall make it clear from the outset: in this field, I give nothing for nothing.”</p>
<p>Sam felt even more confused than before.</p>
<p>“What does it mean?” he persevered in investigating, despite how intrigued he felt by that still smoky business.</p>
<p>Gabriel proceeded with an attack on his fourth sweet, juicy apricot, without stopping smiling like a child who knows something that an adult is desperately trying to find out.</p>
<p>“It means that if you want to be told about that part of your boyfriend’s life that Luc keeps hidden from you but that I know, you will have to reciprocate. And you’ll have to be the first on the shooting line.”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head slowly.</p>
<p>“I still don't understand what...”</p>
<p>“I want something, in exchange for the story of Luc’s past,” Gabriel decided to clarify once and for all. “I want to know something about you and I want you to speak first. These are my conditions.”</p>
<p>For the second time since Sam had rang the doorbell at 21 Salisbury Willows that day, an unusual silence fell in the living room. It was different from those still silences that crawled between Sam and Luc or even between Sam, Dean and Castiel at times. It was not as cold as the former nor as tense as the latter. Although devoid of words, all the time the atmosphere between the two boys remained pervaded with a suffused calm. It was the particular effect that Gabriel had on Sam, but at that moment the 26-year-old was too busy pursuing his own reasoning to notice what a small miracle was taking place around him.</p>
<p>“You want me to tell you something about <em> me </em>?” he asked, bewildered by the proposal. “Anything?”</p>
<p>“Not <em> anything </em>,” Gabe huffed, making a ludicrous grimace and crossing his arms in a lived-in comedian style, as if the answer were obvious. “I'm not giving my high school best friend's secrets away for anything. It would have to be something you wouldn't tell anyone. Even better if you've never told anyone about it. And in the end, if I find your story interesting enough, I'll tell you about Luc. The more newsworthy your story is, the more I will rattle off. So, Sam,” he finally teased him, with a provocative nod of his head, “you want to play, yes or no?”</p>
<p>Watching how Gabe juggled with his so-called rules, Sam was struck by the realization that that man had to get along really well in theaters. He thought about the two tickets for the show on Saturday 23<sup> rd </sup> – the following Saturday, in fact, nothing so far in time – that Gabe had given him and slipped into the inside pocket of his coat just before making tea, but it was a transient thought.</p>
<p>Sam didn't have time to think about the odds of getting Luc to accompany him to the theater now. He had just realized that Gabe's ranting attitude worked, damn it, and all too well.</p>
<p>“Why should you care to know about anything like that about me?” he decided to question him at the end of another round of bizarre silences.</p>
<p>He would never forget the transformation Gabriel's smile underwent at that point. If until that moment it had been the usual sagacious fold on an intelligent and shrewd face, in front of Sam's words it became more amiable, just as the features of Gabe's face softened. If Sam hadn't been sure he was in front of a histrion who was full of tricks up his sleeve, he would have thought that this was the true, genuine, unmasked form of Gabriel Hale.</p>
<p>“Because I want to get closer to you, Sam. Understand you better.”</p>
<p>Feeling suddenly drawn to the center of attention, Sam felt a familiar warmth flow to his cheeks and put a hand to his face to pinch his nose and conceal any redness. Then he kept his eyes down for a while, trying to forget the constant flirting that seemed to form the basis of Gabe's social skills and reflecting again on that offer that still made no sense to him.</p>
<p>He knew he could refuse and Gabe wouldn't be offended. Probably in that case their conversation would have moved to more pleasant topics and they would have gone on without any problems. But Sam wanted to know, he needed it. He believed that Luc's past was the missing piece, what prevented him from turning their relationship to its best version.</p>
<p>And after all, Gabe was the one who had put ice on his temple and covered his bruise without judging, wasn’t he? Sam could trust him just enough to tell him something about his own life. It wasn't supposed to be everything, right? He was not forced to show him his whole self. No, not at all.</p>
<p>After nearly a full minute of struggling, Sam raised his head.</p>
<p>“Can you promise me you won't tell anyone?” he whispered, cautious and threatening at the same time.</p>
<p>Once he was done with the amazement over what was already a yes, Gabe drew two lines on his chest.</p>
<p>“Cross my heart.”</p>
<p>“Not even Luc,” Sam clarified, raising his eyebrows to let him know he was deadly serious.</p>
<p>Gabriel nodded conscientiously.</p>
<p>“Gay scout’s honor.”</p>
<p>Sam peered at his face for a few more seconds to make sure he wasn't joking. Then he swallowed and took a deep breath, as if he was about to dive off the highest cliff of his life.</p>
<p>“Okay, then. If you want to play, let's play.”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Let's start to get into this a little bit deeper, shall we?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Knowing me, knowing you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The first round is Sam's.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p><em> - O</em><em>ctober 3, </em> <em> 2000 - </em></p>
<p><em> - </em> <em> Washington High School, Sioux Falls - </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>It had taken a written invitation, a</em><em>n argument</em> <em> a</em><em>bout</em> <em> high school's suitability as an educational facility that </em> <em>had </em> <em>ended </em> <em>up </em> <em>in s</em><em>houting</em><em>, four days of Mary's </em> <em>skill to insist without upsetting</em> <em> and half a dozen astral conjunctions for Sam to be able to see his father appear in Professor Harris's office on the day and at the time when all of them h</em><em>ad been</em> <em> g</em><em>iven an appointment</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p><em>It had taken a miracle, but in the end, perhaps out of exasperation, John Winchester had agreed to show up for one of the p</em><em>arent-teacher meetings</em> <em> with the professors he deemed unnecessary – both the existence of th</em><em>ose meetings</em> <em> and that of the teachers themselves were seen as fruitless, by the Marine. John Winchester believed in other kinds of life lessons.</em></p>
<p><em>That day, late in the afternoon, Sam had b</em><em>een waiting for</em><em> the arrival of his parents </em><em>side by side with</em><em> Professor Harris, trying desperately to be infected by his literature teacher’</em><em>s optimism</em><em>. </em>It will be all right <em>was what </em><em>he kept repeating over and over </em><em>in his mind</em><em>, trying to convince himself of t</em><em>hose meaningless words</em><em>. Needless to say, Sam soon failed and was left drowning in his own anxiety, letting his young professor's words of encouragement flow over him like water.</em></p>
<p><em>At twenty-eight </em> <em>years of age</em><em>, Mr. Harris was too young and hopeful to understand the skepticism of this particular student </em> <em>of his</em><em>. It didn't matter that Sam, i</em><em>n turn</em><em>, was only seventeen. The young Winchester had the misfortune to know that, not believing in scholastic effectiveness after fifth grade, John would </em> <em>have</em> <em> probably be</em><em>en</em> <em> one of the hardest p</em><em>arent</em> <em> of </em> <em>his teacher’s</em> <em> career.</em></p>
<p><em>Now, with his parents on his right and with Professor Harris' introductory speech c</em><em>lose to</em> <em> its conclusion, Sam could say he was mathematically certain </em> <em>about it</em><em>: his father would </em> <em>have </em> <em>shock</em><em>ed</em> <em> the poor m</em><em>an</em><em>. It had been several minutes s</em><em>ince</em> <em> Sam </em> <em>had first </em> <em>felt his parent shudder not even a meter away from him, </em> <em>as </em> <em>eager to intervene </em> <em>as he was</em><em>, and he could already guess what all that internal seething would h</em><em>ave led</em> <em> to.</em></p>
<p>“<em>And this was the extreme synthesis of what your son's school career has been up to now. I would say there is doubt that you can be proud of him,” Professor Harris declared, smiling broadly at the Winchesters. Only Mary returned </em><em>the smile </em><em>with conviction before the teacher's attention shifted to h</em><em>is</em><em> pupil: “Anyway, Sam asked me to organize this meeting to discuss with him </em><em>and with you</em><em> his chances of being admitted to college. And not just any college.”</em></p>
<p><em>Feeling finally called f</em><em>orth</em><em>, Sam cleared his throat and laced his fingers on the table before grabbing his courage w</em><em>ith</em> <em> both hands </em> <em>to meet</em> <em> his parents' gaze. He had to make an extra effort not to stop at h</em><em>is mother’s</em> <em> reassuring one and also accept h</em><em>is father’s</em> <em> rigid e</em><em>yes instead</em><em>, and at that point he coughed again a</em><em>s he felt</em> <em> the tension </em> <em>grow</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I want to a</em><em>pply</em><em> for Stanford,” he finally revealed, pulling back a strand of unruly hair with h</em><em>is</em><em> fingers. When John Winchester put on an even more austere expression, Sam </em><em>mis</em><em>took it for confusion and took care to add: “</em><em>It’s</em><em> in California.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Hm. And what is it that you would like to waste your time studying, sixteen hundred miles away from home?” the man grunted, not impressed at all, even before his wife had time to give voice to the emotion that had risen to her eyes in the blink of an eye.</em></p>
<p><em>Sam exchanged a silent glance with his mother, trying to build on h</em><em>er</em> <em> evident pride, before taking a deep breath and r</em><em>eplying</em> <em> without any d</em><em>oubt</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Law.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Law?” </em><em>his father </em><em>repeated, </em><em>with </em><em>the same expression on his face that Sam would have expected to see if he had asked him to pay f</em><em>or</em><em> a lap dance class. “To become what?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sensing the screeching notes of his disappointment scratching his skin, Sam swallowed hard.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>A lawyer,” he s</em><em>aid</em><em>, struggling not to let his voice drop to the level of a whisper. “I want to be a lawyer.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>The news didn't seem to reassure John at all. If anything, the opposite. The man snapped his arms upwards before putting a hand to his forehead and shaking his head.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Good God</em><em>, j</em><em>ust what we needed.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>That unfortunate choice of words earned him a dirty look from his wife.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>What do you mean by that?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>I mean,” John </em><em>answered</em><em>, not at all impressed by the </em><em>clear </em><em>reproach in Mary's eyes, “does the boy really think he has what it takes to get a </em><em>L</em><em>aw degree from Stanford?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam closed his eyes as if his father had started yelling right in his face. At that point, perhaps he would have preferred that he did, instead of discussing his future as if he were talking about that of a lunatic.</em>
</p>
<p><em>The seventeen-year-old </em> <em>boy </em> <em>felt the crack in his chest become a chasm instantly and sank into his shoulders, looking down at his k</em><em>nees</em><em>. He had just begun to torture the fabric of his jeans with his hands clenched in fists when a warm hand c</em><em>ame</em> <em> to rest on his shoulder, distracting him from his miserable thoughts. When he raised his head, Sam saw a strange light in his teacher's eyes.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Mr. Winchester, excuse me if I </em><em>dare</em><em>,” Mr. Harris </em><em>jumped in</em><em>, continuing to squeeze the seventeen-year-old's shoulder as if he knew his grip was his last, real foothold. “Sam told me that you are a Marine and that you care a lot about the discipline y</em><em>our</em><em> C</em><em>orp</em><em> teaches its m</em><em>embers</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p><em>The professor waited for John Winchester's staid affirmative nod before continuing: “Well, let me say that your son is an example of discipline. From the first year his goals were clear and he never stopped working hard to reach them. He w</em><em>rote down</em> <em> a list of colleges to submit h</em><em>is</em> <em> applications to </em> <em>during his sophomore year. O</em><em>ver time </em> <em>he </em> <em>focused on Stanford and perfected his essay, got four flawless letters of recommendation from his teachers and scored 35 points on his ACT test before </em> <em>the end of the</em> <em> last </em> <em>academic </em> <em>year. Furthermore, he never spared any extra-curricular activities. Sam can definitely do it, Mr. Winchester. I'll say more, I would take it a</em><em>s a personal offense</em> <em> if he didn't even try, g</em><em>iven how far he has come already</em><em>.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Subjected to the teacher's encouraging smile, Sam was persuaded to give it another try. This time, however, he proved wise enough to rely on his mother's eyes.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I won't be a burden f</em><em>or</em><em> you, I promise. I will not ask you </em><em>for </em><em>anything, really,” he p</em><em>romised</em><em>, desperate for h</em><em>is parents’</em><em> approval. “I'll find myself a job to put some money away, I've already received </em><em>some kind of</em><em> offer from the cinema on Sullivan Street for the weekends. And Professor Harris says that if I continue to k</em><em>eep my grades up </em><em>throughout the year, I will have a very good chance of getting a scholarship and that will be enough to cover practically everything </em><em>I’ll</em><em>...”</em></p>
<p>“<em>What is your essay a</em><em>bout</em><em>?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>His father had interrupted him in such a delicate moment that Sam took a second too long to r</em>
  <em>esume</em>
  <em>.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>What?” he asked, shifting his attention to him.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I asked you,” the man repeated, stolid, “what your admission essay </em><em>is</em><em> about.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam turned pale, caught out. How had his father managed to hit his very weakest point? Sam did not want to argue, but there was already so much resentment in the man's voice, when instead every parent would have boasted of such a zealous and ambitious son.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>S</em><em>o</em><em>?” John insisted, on the point of losing his temper.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam swallowed. Unable to lie, he had no choice but to cut his own legs.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Anti-militarism.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>The head of the family's gaze instantly hardened and Sam began to believe that he would see him get up and leave at any moment. Or maybe he was hoping for it? Better t</em>
  <em>han engaging a fight with him</em>
  <em>, in those c</em>
  <em>ircumstances</em>
  <em>.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Mr. Harris attempted a recovery action that was t</em>
  <em>he definition of desperation</em>
  <em>.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>It's a very good essay, Mr. Winchester, p</em><em>erfectly</em><em> structured. </em><em>Sam’s </em><em>c</em><em>are for </em><em>sources </em><em>is</em><em>...”</em></p>
<p><em>But John had forgotten about h</em><em>is</em> <em> existence. He was too busy staring at his son as if his </em> <em>most</em> <em> fervent desire now was to </em> <em>see him </em> <em>hangi</em><em>ng</em> <em> from the ceiling. If there hadn't been a table and the chair Mary was fidgeting on between them, he probably would have p</em><em>roceeded in that way</em> <em> already. When his brain remembered how to articulate a sentence, Sam felt his growl vibrate directly on his skin.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Why, I </em><em>can’t help</em><em> ask</em><em>ing</em><em> myself </em><em>why</em><em> do you always, inevitably have to do everything </em><em>you can </em><em>to </em><em>fight</em><em> me?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>I'm not </em><em>fighting </em><em>you,” </em><em>the boy</em><em> asserted, knowing he could not bend. They would have </em><em>had </em><em>no other chance to confront each other, because there was no doubt that his father would </em><em>have</em><em> never want</em><em>ed</em><em> to go back to the subject again. Feeling already screwed, Sam figured it was worth going through with it. “These are my opinions and I will need them to get into college.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>John snorted, almost amused, as if this idea of Sam going to university was acquiring more and more comic tints.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Why don't you get a real job instead of throwing yourself into this n</em><em>onsense</em><em>?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam felt a load of hostility rise up to his ears and go right to his head.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Since when i</em><em>s</em><em> college n</em><em>onsense</em><em>?” he hissed, stiffening. “I’</em><em>ve </em><em>just told you that I aspire to attend one of the most prestigious universities in the United States and Mr. Harris has just proved to you that I have all the credentials to </em><em>be able to</em><em> do it! I'm not asking you for anything, not even a dime, so why can't you just support me, wish me the best and be proud of me, for once?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Because I know you, Sam,” his father snapped promptly, as if he was waiting for nothing but that question. “I know you better get a real job, like your brother, and pray to be just as g</em><em>ood</em><em>. Because knowing you, I already know that you a</em><em>re not going to</em><em> make it </em><em>in any college</em><em>. I know you a</em><em>re going</em> <em>to </em><em>quit. You a</em><em>re going to</em><em> give up at the exact moment when you’</em><em>ll</em><em> feel that you have no one who encourages you to do better, who breath</em><em>es down</em><em> your neck, who forces you to keep your head down and to commit w</em><em>ith everything you have, with your head and your hea</em><em>rt. And if you t</em><em>hink</em><em> that when you’</em><em>ll be</em><em> at Stanford that person will still be me...”</em></p>
<p>“<em>I've never asked you for anything like that,” Sam interrupted him icily.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Inside, however, he was shaking with anger at the umpteenth offensive that the head of the family was moving against his self-esteem.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Listen to me, I'm just trying to spare you a disappointment,” the parent persevered with increasing energy, seemingly unaware of the wounds he was leaving behind. “Forget this bullshit and go learn a j</em><em>ob</em><em>. You can manage to do something, as long as you don't f</em><em>ill</em><em> your head with absurd aims, such as that of graduating in </em><em>L</em><em>aw and b</em><em>eing</em><em>... being a lawyer,” he concluded, waving his hand as if that word wasn't even worth the effort to remember it.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Mr. Winchester...”</em></p>
<p>“<em>No, Mr. Harris. There is no reason to insist, it w</em><em>on’t</em><em> help. Anyway, thank you for trying,” Sam said, stopping yet another attempt by h</em><em>is</em><em> teacher with a sharp gesture before returning to his father's eyes with a whole new inner fire, fueled excessively by the last seconds of John Winchester's speech.</em></p>
<p><em>Sam had almost forgotten that he couldn't count on his father, that he hadn't really been able to count on him for the past seven years at least. At that point, he was almost painfully grateful that the rant with which the man </em> <em>had </em> <em>wanted to put him back in his place like an obedient dog had happened, since it had allowed him to remember that he was alone, in that fight. </em> <em>H</em><em>e didn't have h</em><em>is</em> <em> father by h</em><em>is</em> <em> side, he would never have </em> <em>had </em> <em>him. For years now, that man seemed constantly engaged in a battle against him.</em></p>
<p>“<em>You can brag all you want about how much you know me, but I know what the truth is,” Sam quivered, putting his fists on the table and forcing himself not to look at his mother's face.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>His anger was all for John Winchester and he intended to express it without raising his voice even half a tone. That asshole didn't deserve it.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>We haven't talked in years, </em><em>not really, </em><em>you and me. But I know you enough to b</em><em>e sure</em><em> that nothing will change your mind, so I find it pointless to s</em><em>tay</em><em> here a</em><em>nd waste</em><em> everyone's time,” the b</em><em>oy</em><em> announced, standing up and hoping his legs would not start shaking as much as his wrists. “I'm going to Stanford. A</em><em>nd</em><em> you and your o</em><em>bsession</em><em> f</em><em>or</em><em> control, f</em><em>or</em><em> discipline, your paranoia and your attempts to b</em><em>reak</em><em> me </em><em>down</em><em>… </em><em>you can go fuck yourselves</em><em>.</em><em>”</em></p>
<p><em>S</em><em>am</em> <em> did not give him time to react. He finished speaking and began to move towards the office door with energetic and resolute steps. For a delightful fraction of a second he believed he would h</em><em>ave made</em> <em> it, h</em><em>e would have</em> <em> reach</em><em>ed</em> <em> the corridor before those in charge c</em><em>ould recover</em> <em> from the supreme insult.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Where do you think you're going? Get back here right away. Samuel William Winchester!” his father roar</em><em>ed</em><em> when he realized that the seventeen-year-old had every intention of ignoring him and leaving with the last word in his pocket.</em></p>
<p><em>The man jumped to his feet e</em><em>xactly</em> <em> when Sam, a victim of the gravity of his full name, stopped with one hand on the handle. His father took advantage of his attention to point a finger at him and loosen the reins of his self-control. If what had happened hadn't shaken him deeply, Sam thought, John Winchester would never have allowed himself to indulge in such a threat in front of a stranger.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Take just one more step, boy, go out that door and I swear to God that when you get home I will make you regret it like never before.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Sam felt warning shivers run down his spine, pinch the back of his neck and make his palms sweat. His own senses knew his father and his solid propensity to keep his promises and were strongly advising him to back down before it was too late.</em>
</p>
<p><em>But Sam was seventeen, </em> <em>he had </em> <em>the wrath of God in his body and, as Dean said, the condescension of a mule in r</em><em>ut</em><em>. Before he could even think about it, he was already offering his dad the perfect attitude for the s</em><em>martass</em> <em> face he'd just donned.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Fuck you,” </em><em>he</em><em> repeat</em><em>ed</em><em>, this time </em><em>savoring</em><em> every syllable on the tip of h</em><em>is</em><em> tongue. “I'm not c</em><em>oming</em><em> home.”</em></p>
<p><em>It happened in less than a b</em><em>reath</em><em>. In a f</em><em>lash</em> <em> he was out of the office and started running as if he had the devil at his heels.</em></p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. How to keep winter at bay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again, thank you to everyone leaving comments, kudos and following the story!<br/>Let's keep digging, shall we?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Sam took a break from the story to catch his breath. Although Gabriel had given no sign of having any difficulty following his words, his guest had the feeling that he had been running after the words too fast, ending up stumbling and fidgeting unnecessarily.</p>
<p>Of course, he should have remembered that this was what happened every time he touched that specific topic. After all, how long had he not talked with anyone about his father? Not even he and Dean had dug up much, after John Winchester’s death, for fear of reviving old grudges, conflicts and differences of opinion. The only time they had allowed themselves to do so was on Christmas Eve and, blinded by grief and anger, they had ended up bickering over words – they had almost come to blows.</p>
<p>“And then what? Did he chase you?”</p>
<p>Gabriel's question made a shred of clarity return to Sam’s mind, forcing him to place reality alongside the past he was retracing. The twenty-six-year-old went on massaging the thumb of his left hand with the index finger of his right one, finding it to be an excellent alternative to pinches, then he looked up from the floor to welcome Gabe's participating eyes.</p>
<p>“No, he didn’t. I was seventeen and had been playing soccer for five. Drill sergeant or not, he wouldn't have had any chance to catch me,” he said without the shadow of a smile on his face. “I did not look back and fled to my brother’s place. At the time, Dean had already been living alone for two years. I was insanely envious of that.”</p>
<p>When he stopped again, Gabriel respected his silence. For twenty seconds at least.</p>
<p>“I hate to sound like a four-year-old, but... then what?”</p>
<p>This time Sam smiled at him, albeit wearily. He had just imagined what Gabriel must have looked like at that kindergarten age and he couldn't help but find the image his mind had improvised fricking adorable. He took a sigh, ran a hand through his hair and took a sip of his tea in an attempt to deceive the bitterness he had in his mouth.</p>
<p>“Then the inevitable happened. In the sense that I already knew it would turn out like that if I had tried to talk to my father about my ambitions. He had never been enthusiastic about the idea of a university education for Dean or for me, it didn't matter that we were talking about one of the most prestigious colleges ever,” he explained, twisting his mouth and then shrugging resignedly. “But I wanted to accept my teacher’s help to leave no stone unturned. If it had been up to me, my father would have known about Stanford the moment I packed my bags.”</p>
<p>“Wait, did you actually get into Stanford?” Gabriel stepped in, with his eyes wide open in amazement. “Is that where you attended college eventually?”</p>
<p>When Sam nodded, Gabriel gave in a whistle of appreciation.</p>
<p>“Well, congratulations, damn it. It is truly remarkable. I've never had any Stanford material among my acquaintances,” he commented with an impressed grimace that managed to warm Sam a little.</p>
<p>“Thanks. It's nothing special,” the boy murmured, scratching his neck in a vaguely embarrassed way. “Anyway, in the late afternoon of that same day my father called Dean. He didn't even have to ask, he already knew I was there with him. Where else could I have gone? He told my brother that he gave me an hour to drag my ass home, or else he would have personally kicked it all the way over and made sure I wasn't able to sit comfortably for at least a couple of weeks.”</p>
<p>“Such classy threats,” Gabriel considered. When Sam's questioning look came to his attention, the man shrugged, justifying himself with a seraphic: “From what little you told me about your father, I had pictured a person with an impetuous temperament. I would have expected some furious yelling and no communicative intent, that's all.”</p>
<p>Sam considered that remark, carefully digging through the memories he had of John Winchester before answering.</p>
<p>“If there is one thing I have learned from living with a Marine for the first eighteen years of my life, it is that each of them will mind their manners as long as they have oxygen in their body, on and off duty. I've heard my father swear a few times in his life and that only happened when my brother or I ran away, got away from his controlled zone and risked getting seriously hurt.”</p>
<p>“In short, no bad words at the dinner table. Copy that,” Gabriel replied, hinting at a smile and half a military salute.</p>
<p>“This is why I never believed all our relatives’ prediction, that my brother would have followed in Dad's footsteps and join the Corp. Dean can't live without that kind of language. Or without turning over a table every now and then, for that matter,” Sam added, cracking his fingers. Seemingly more relaxed than he had been before Gabriel's comments dampened the gloom of his tale, he allowed himself to rest his head back on the sofa cushions. “Anyway, back to the story. Dean ignored my attempts to get him to hang up the phone, answered with his usual <em>Yessir</em>,” Sam continued, mimicking the responsible voice his older brother sported on certain occasions, “and took me straight back home.”</p>
<p>By then, Gabriel had already understood the hint and, driven by empathy, he had also lost his smile along the road.</p>
<p>“Shit,” he commented.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Sam agreed dryly. “I hated him, for a few days. But in hindsight, what else could he have done?”</p>
<p>Gabriel let that awareness settle before getting back to insist.</p>
<p>“And your father?”</p>
<p>“He didn't beat my ass, if that's what you're wondering,” Sam retorted with another sad smile, the light of which couldn't reach the young man's eyes. “By the time we got there, my mother had managed to calm him down enough to ward that temptation off.”</p>
<p>Gabriel took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“It's something.”</p>
<p>“It was a lot, actually,” Sam admitted, returning to lower his gaze and distract himself from the discomfort with physical pain. His fingernails were long enough to leave half-moon marks, if he pressed them against the palm of his hand, and he began to do it systematically. “I knew I had pissed him off like never before. And that evening, well, he just did what he had done with Dean four years earlier: he offered me what for him was the ideal future, the maximum aspiration of every eighteen-year-old.”</p>
<p>“Meaning?”</p>
<p>“The Marine Corps boot camp,” Sam confessed in a murmur. “His boot camp.”</p>
<p>Gabriel opened his eyes wide. If he hadn't been so busy handling the situation, Sam would have complimented himself on being able to catch him off guard and gain such a genuine reaction.</p>
<p>“Did he actually suggest you joined the Marines?” he exclaimed, astonished. “Just after learning that your college admission essay was about anti-militarism? For crying out loud, it seems clear to me that nothing could have been further away from your nature, and I've only known you for a few weeks! No offense, but what was on his mind?”</p>
<p>Before answering, Sam let some of his childhood memories flow into his mind.</p>
<p>His father in uniform, standing in front of Sam's third grade class, intent on explaining what it meant to be a United States Marine to a classroom full of eight-year-old boys and girls who listened to him with their mouths open, interrupting him every so often to ask him what time he had to wake up, how much he ran every day or, in one of the worst cases, if he had ever shot a person. Sam could still see the pained grimace that John Winchester had hastened to disguise as a sad smile when that particular question had caught him off guard.</p>
<p>“The desire to see at least one of his children choose his same path, I guess. He had already tried it with my brother when he had graduated from high school,” he recalled. “<em>Try at least </em><em>the first </em><em>three months of training</em>, he had told him, <em>and depending on how i</em><em>t goes</em><em> you </em><em>can</em><em> decide what to do </em><em>next</em>. Dean did it just to please him, just because saying no to Dad was never his thing. He resisted well until the seventh week of training, but gave up as soon as he received his first order to take a weapon in his hands. He had never wanted to learn how to shoot, even if it was only a can, but he had nevertheless agreed to give the boot camp a try to show our father that he cared about his opinion, that he respected him, that he wanted to do everything he could to make him proud. Once he left there, he chose to return to the garage where he had worked during the previous three summers. He apologized to our father and added that, although he had spotted several interesting backsides among those of the other recruits, the military career was not for him. Dad whacked him upside the head for the joke, but you could see that he was satisfied. He was glad that Dean had at least tried, he had made him proud with his results. Four years later he suggested the same solution for me, albeit with a slightly different inflection,” he concluded on an acrid note.</p>
<p>Gabriel frowned.</p>
<p>“That is to say?”</p>
<p>“He did not believe I had what it took to make it, not even there,” Sam found himself forced to admit, trying to banish the familiar sense of inadequacy at the borders of his being. “But he would have preferred to have me close, so he could keep an eye on me and push me to the finish line, rather than knowing me in a university that was worth nothing to him.”</p>
<p>Gabriel accepted that explanation with a sorry nod.</p>
<p>“Obviously you said no.”</p>
<p>Sam almost laughed. If something had managed to get out of his throat at that moment, it would have been a disturbing sound, the furthest from joy you can imagine.</p>
<p>“Maybe, if I had limited myself to that and told him that my application for Stanford was practically already there, I would have got away with the punishment that segregated me home until Christmas. No, the smart guy I was at seventeen could have never been satisfied with such a simple answer, he would have found it lackluster,” Sam scrupulously blamed himself, as if he had spent a fair amount of time analyzing his old self. Finally he sighed: “I shouted at him. Not only did I tell him that I didn't have the slightest intention of approaching the Marine Corps, not only did I repeat how much I hated him and his job, but I told him that I despised him for what he was. That his being an enhancer of State violence embarrassed me. Embarrassed, do you understand? My father had fought in Vietnam, seen people die in his arms, dragged the corpses of friends and comrades for miles just to let them have a decent burial. All this so that a teenage boy who knew nothing of what all that meant, his son, could tell him that he was ashamed of him being a Marine, that he was disgusted at him.”</p>
<p>Sam paused and inhaled all the air he could. While remaining still, sitting on the sofa, he had shrunk on himself as that speech he had never said aloud before that day was shared with Gabe. Gabriel. Nearly a stranger who, however, was looking at him as if it were not so difficult for him to understand what was happening inside the boy's head and heart. As if he had a clear idea of what kind of burden that story was for Sam and how much sharing it was both suffocating and liberating. As if he knew exactly what it means to have to keep at bay a very personal, inner winter that freezes you inside.</p>
<p>“I deserved everything he gave me that evening, if you want my opinion,” Sam finally decreed in a whisper, clutching his wrists in a steel grip when he noticed that they had started to shake, like precise mirrors of his mental state. “God, I deserved more. Dean stood between us and stopped him after just a few smacks, when he should have... my father should have beaten me until I took it all back.”</p>
<p>Silence slipped between them like a cold stream after that conclusion. If only Sam had found the courage to look up at Gabriel, he could have read on his face how much that stance had surprised him before the thirty-one-year-old made the effort to compose himself.</p>
<p>“Those are strong words, Sam. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself,” he judged a few seconds later in a thoughtful tone, moved to compassion by the projected image of the boy Sam had been as a teenager, by the mistakes he had made and by those others had perpetrated against him, ending up wearing down his conscience by dint of guilt. “You were seventeen. And from what you tell me, it was as if your father was not there for you at all.”</p>
<p>Sam looked him in the face, feeling both provoked and soothed by that defense.</p>
<p>“Seventeen years should have been enough for me to be respectful,” he retorted, however, ready.</p>
<p>Gabriel had the feeling that it was a sentence Sam had repeated dozens of times, until it was memorized. He spent a moment wondering if that was Sam's doing or his old man, then raised his eyebrows and stopped refraining from speaking out. The stubbornness with which Sam guarded his self-criticism required nothing less.</p>
<p>“And would the excuse of non-respect be enough for you to hit a son that you don't even try to understand? Seventeen, holy cow,” he snorted, as if he had just contemplated the prospect of a nine-hour climb. “A parent should be pissed off if his child does not show some signs of defiance at seventeen. It’s not normal not to stand up against family authority at seventeen.”</p>
<p>Somehow, his innate comedy managed to lighten Sam up to the point of making him smile.</p>
<p>“Come back and tell me that when you’ll have a teenage son,” he even managed to joke, immediately attracting Gabe's surprised gaze.</p>
<p>With a resigned expression, the eldest was then forced to acknowledge that he was right.</p>
<p>“You say I might change my mind at that point, huh? At the moment I have no evidence to prove you wrong. No babies on the horizon, thanks to the divinity who made me religiously homosexual. Either way, I wouldn't be ready for baby food and diapers, or to forget what it feels like to enjoy a night of uninterrupted sleep.”</p>
<p>God bless the laughter that fell upon them and drove the pangs of pain away from Sam's chest.</p>
<p>That was Gabriel's mystical, inexplicable power, the boy realized as the atmosphere around him relaxed again. No matter how serious a conversation was, Gabe always seemed to be able to raise spirits from any grayness, pointing a finger at the sun so that everyone would notice how it was peeping through the clouds, as there was hope that it would return to illuminate their small corner of the world.</p>
<p>Sam felt safe in that state. So safe that he didn't linger long before making his request, biting his lip.</p>
<p>“What would you say if I told you that I need something stronger than tea?”</p>
<p>“I would say that you are entitled to that: you are young, not underage. And I couldn't agree more with that,” Gabe smiled at him, getting to his feet. “Also because I think it's my turn to respect our pact and I'm not going to get through this thing while completely sober.”</p>
<p>Before heading to the sparse liquor cabinet beneath the window, he crouched in front of the stereo to select a CD. When Sam found himself accepting a glass with two fingers of whiskey, the Americas were playing <em>Sister Golden Hair</em> at an ideal volume, above which the two of them could continue talking.</p>
<p>“Much better,” Gabriel declared after returning to the sofa and enjoying a sip of his whiskey.</p>
<p>For some reason, perhaps also linked to their ability to bond so quickly, neither of the two boys thought about labeling their choice of sipping some hard liquor in the early afternoon as inappropriate.</p>
<p>“Shall we get to Luc?”</p>
<p>The question caught Sam off guard, but he recovered quickly and nodded. As nervous as he was, he was more and more curious and more and more convinced that some more information would only help him.</p>
<p>“Let’s get to Luc.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Broken</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We finally get to dig a bit into Luc's past.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Gabriel rubbed his forehead with the hand he wasn’t holding his glass of whiskey with, as if tempted by the idea of backing out. Sam had begun to seriously fear a retreat when the other boy's eyes returned to mirror his.</p>
<p>“Well, I met him when we were both fourteen. Ninth grade. The school year had started a couple of weeks before at the latest. The first memory I have of him is this tall, lean boy sitting on one of those stiff armchairs outside the principal's office.”</p>
<p>Sam couldn't help but smile at the thought of Luc and Gabriel earning the honor of being sent to the principal’s office after just two weeks at their new school.</p>
<p>“What high school did you go to?” he asked, holding back the urge to ask what they had done to deserve such a welcome.</p>
<p>“Lincoln High. You?”</p>
<p>“Washington High, like my brother,” Sam answered, then leaning a little more toward him. “Tell me about that day. The day you met him.”</p>
<p>Gabriel reacted to his enthusiasm with the same condescending smile he would have given to a child who gets excited about an improvised treasure hunt with a fake pirate map. It seemed to Sam that he was about to add an unpleasant warning, but in the end Gabe settled with another sigh.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he agreed, “it looks like a good place to start explaining how things went.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>- September 16, 1992 -</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>- Lincoln High School, Sioux Falls -</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>T</em><em>he first thing</em> <em> you need to know </em> <em>is </em> <em>that Gabriel was not sorry.</em></p>
<p><em>There had been several choices, in the past, which he had regretted – always for the consequences they had c</em><em>aused</em> <em> – but consuming a well-deserved and hilarious revenge against h</em><em>is</em> <em> French literature teacher was not among them. With her dictatorial attitude in class, that witch had practically begged him to become a target.</em></p>
<p><em>And it wasn't like it was the 1930s. A visit to the p</em><em>rincipal’s office</em><em>, in cases like his, mean</em><em>t</em> <em> a lecture, a s</em><em>lap on the wrist</em> <em> at most. They certainly wouldn't have suspended him f</em><em>or</em> <em> the first prank he p</em><em>ut together</em><em>, not when they still didn't know him at that school.</em></p>
<p>Wait<em>, Gabriel thought all of a sudden, stopping abruptly as he walked </em> <em>on </em> <em>the e</em><em>mpty</em> <em> corridors of the school after t</em><em>he last bell of the day</em><em>. </em>They can’t possibly have my junior high records, can they?</p>
<p><em>Oh well, it didn't matter. If they </em> <em>had </em> <em>got to call his mother, she would </em> <em>have </em> <em>probably pretend</em><em>ed</em> <em> to be serious on the phone, then laugh</em><em>ed</em> <em> with him at the prank he played on the teacher once his son got home. Oh, and then she would </em> <em>have </em> <em>take</em><em>n</em> <em> comics and television away from him for a week. But i</em><em>t</em> <em> would </em> <em>have </em> <em>still be</em><em>en totally</em> <em> worth it, right?</em></p>
<p><em>So Gabriel wasn't particularly tense as he walked into the anteroom that served as the waiting room for the headmaster's office. He took a quick glance at the horrible color of the walls and </em> <em>at </em> <em>the ornamental plants </em> <em>standing </em> <em>in the four corners of the room and observed for a couple of more seconds the only other person t</em><em>here</em><em>: a boy who h</em><em>ad to be</em> <em> about his age was sitting, s</em><em>traight</em> <em> and rigid, on one of the three plastic chairs available. His hair was a lighter blond than Gabriel's, his face a taut mask hidden in the shadows, and with his fingers he was clutching his knees hard enough to hurt himself. Gabe considered all of this before dropping into the chair next to him and assuming a relaxed pose </em> <em>which was</em> <em> much less suited to the place and situation.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Hey,” he greeted, offering a smile and a friendly nod to his s</em><em>choolmate</em><em>.</em></p>
<p><em>The boy looked him up and down swiftly, obviously surprised to have b</em><em>een talked to</em><em>. If he hadn't looked so u</em><em>pset</em><em>, Gabriel would have said </em> <em>there was something aggressive about </em> <em>his g</em><em>lower</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Hey,” he finally answered in a whisper.</em></p>
<p><em>Gabriel folded his hands behind his neck, stretching his muscles with a satisfied moan before b</em><em>ending</em> <em> a little towards t</em><em>he other guy</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Are you in trouble too?” he asked casually, and the other boy's lips tensed into a grimace.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I will be once I get home, if I don't come up with a credible excuse.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>I totally get you, brother</em><em>! Look, l</em><em>et’s lay our cards on the table here</em><em>. What d</em><em>id you do</em><em>?” Gabe s</em><em>nooped</em><em>, unstoppable, offering a </em><em>sly</em><em> grin to h</em><em>is peer’s</em><em> bewildered expression. “I put a beehive in Professor Forster's car.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>The blond's eyes widened, then a smile of admiration flashed across his gaunt, grave face.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>That’s great,” he murmured.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Oh yeah, it was epic. You should have seen her, she ran away with a</em><em>ll those</em><em> wasps stuck in that awful bun of hair. Someone s</em><em>nitched</em><em> on m</em><em>e</em><em>, but it was totally worth i</em><em>t,”</em><em> Gabriel recognized with very little modesty, t</em><em>hen</em><em> returned to h</em><em>is</em><em> attack with a friendly n</em><em>udge</em><em>. “Well, then? D</em><em>on’t play hard to get</em><em>! We are already here, what d</em><em>o you have</em><em> to lose?”</em></p>
<p><em>After a few s</em><em>econds</em> <em>spent </em><em>evaluating the </em><em>perpetually </em><em>t</em><em>hrilled</em> <em>human </em><em>being that had joined him, </em><em>Gabriel’s fellow victim</em><em> returned to stare at his feet and bit his lip mercilessly.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Professor Sutton saw something he shouldn't have seen and now he wants me to explain it to both him and the h</em><em>eadmaster</em><em>,” he mumbled.</em></p>
<p><em>Gabriel raised one eyebrow as he lowered the other, in a move h</em><em>e had been studying</em> <em> for weeks.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Well, what c</em><em>ould</em><em> he p</em><em>ossibly have</em><em> seen </em><em>that’s </em><em>so serious?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>The blondest boy sighed heavily, then surrendered to the casual exuberance of that newcomer and decided to take the quickest route, hoping it would also be the least painful. With a little luck, he would have silenced that talking cricket with a single gesture.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>This,” he c</em><em>onfessed</em><em> between his teeth, turning both h</em><em>is hands</em><em> to show his palms to Gabriel.</em></p>
<p><em>The fourteen-year-old put his attention on t</em><em>hem</em> <em> and froze. </em> <em>But </em> <em>his eyes </em> <em>didn’t even widen </em> <em>as t</em><em>hey</em> <em> followed the m</em><em>arks</em> <em> that crossed the b</em><em>oy’s palms</em><em>. Lines – at least fifteen, or more likely twenty per palm – that intersected each other like a macabre web and that had severed his flesh, going deep enough to make it bleed before the wound s</em><em>tarted to heal</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p><em>The overwhelming majority of kids of Gabriel's age would not have known how to react, in front of that display, and nine out of ten would have lost forever the desire or the courage to speak to that slender s</em><em>choolmate</em> <em>who sported such</em><em> a hard and sad look </em><em>on his face</em><em>. But not Gabriel. Gabriel had a wealth of knowledge large enough to allow him to remain calm on the outside, even if inside him the pieces of an old puzzle he had learned by heart were moving.</em></p>
<p>“<em>What's the problem?” he asked firmly, giving only his irony up.</em></p>
<p><em>Luc, who still didn't have a name in Gabriel's mind, looked at him as if he were to be interned in an asylum.<br/>“The problem, idiot, is that I can't tell t</em><em>hem</em> <em> my father </em> <em>is the one who </em> <em>made t</em><em>his</em><em>,” he hissed.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Gabriel ignored that rush of aggression. He knew it was simply a self-defense instinct and he replied without changing expression, serious as he seldom was.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Why not?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Because they wouldn't believe me,” Luc replied w</em><em>ith</em><em> the v</em><em>oice</em><em> of someone running out of patience with a fool. “He is the pastor of the </em><em>neighborhood </em><em>parish and I'm h</em><em>is</em><em> w</em><em>ild</em> <em>screw-up</em><em> son. They wouldn't believe a single word, they'd call home to blurt everything out and tonight he…”</em></p>
<p>“<em>He</em><em> would double the dose,” Gabriel concluded f</em><em>or him</em><em>, now so absorbed and on p</em><em>oint</em><em> that he confused the other boy.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Soon after, they both heard the sound of a chair being moved into the adjoining room, only a few meters away. Gabriel thought quickly, a victim of circumstances, then grabbed his schoolmate's arm to get his full attention.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Tell t</em><em>hem</em><em> you lost a bet,” he whispered quickly. “You lost a stupid bet with stupid friends and you stupidly agreed to let t</em><em>hem</em><em> do this </em><em>to you</em><em>. It will work. Adults always think that rowdy kids are also </em><em>total </em><em>moron</em><em>s</em><em> when they are in a group.”</em></p>
<p><em>For a few seconds, Luc kept those shocked eyes fixed on him and, for the same amount of time, Gabriel feared that he had scared him to the point that he could no longer do anything for him. But then something changed. The boy relaxed a little in his grip and nodded, recognizing himself in that thought. He almost returned the new smile Gabriel </em> <em>had </em> <em>sketched </em> <em>on his own face</em><em>, in the act of recognizing someone like him.</em></p>
<p><em>The door to the principal's office creaked a little, opening, and the </em> <em>paunchy</em> <em> Professor Sutton appeared, sporting the neutral expression he w</em><em>ore</em> <em> so well.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Luc, we're ready for you,” he announced, motioning him to get up.</em></p>
<p><em>The blond </em> <em>boy </em> <em>obeyed without giving t</em><em>he teacher</em> <em> a single direct glance. </em> <em>B</em><em>ut before setting off he stopped to cast a still bewildered but grateful look at that short, d</em><em>ynamic</em> <em> boy with an energy that only apparently fought with the reflexive act that he had pulled out without batting an eyelid.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Thank you...” Luc s</em><em>tuttered</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Gabe,” Gabriel introduced himself, giving him a wink. “G</em><em>o get</em><em> them, tiger.”</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>A silence worthy of a snowfall fell between Sam and Gabriel the instant the latter took a break from talking, leaving the youngest boy with nothing to hold on to.</p>
<p>Gabriel was suffering in the shadow of memories, but Sam had forgotten how to breathe. A dozen questions came to his lips, but he held them all back, still unable to formulate a coherent thought.</p>
<p>“After that day we became friends. We began with a few lunches together in the cafeteria, followed by each free afternoon. We soon became inseparable,” Gabe resumed after less than a minute, keeping his tone serious despite the fact that he was talking about some of the happiest days of his adolescence.</p>
<p>Sam understood why when Gabriel took another breath and went on.</p>
<p>“Luc is the son of an old school Protestant pastor. His father repressed him with his religious indoctrination and his senseless punishments. I, with my stupidity, the games and jokes in which I involved him, was the only one who managed to overcome the wall he had built around himself and distract him from the hell in which he lived at home. Especially since he had hinted that he was interested in boys instead of girls, his parents weren't giving him any respite,” Gabe added, refusing to be distracted by anything other than the shock in Sam's eyes. “They used to hit him on his hands every night, with a switch, forcing him to recite verses from the Bible and to continue even when he was in tears. When his father became convinced that Luc was not doing enough to remedy his sinful condition, he beat him... in other ways, that he considered more convincing,” he swallowed. “One time he stayed home from school for a week. When he came back, he told to me that he had had to do penance every day, because his mother had found an old issue of an LGBT-themed magazine under his mattress. He had been on his knees all week, not including the six hours they had allowed him each night to sleep.”</p>
<p>“Jesus Christ,” Sam exhaled, barely audible beyond the hand that he had been pressing on his mouth for minutes.</p>
<p>His mind was a blizzard of fire and ice, full of noise and void at the same time. Confronted with that bloody part of Luc’s past that he had never even considered possible, he felt as if the ground had just failed under his feet. Gabriel, on the other hand, was struggling to proceed, but he had on his side the advantage of someone who has been working on the horror for some time.</p>
<p>“They both called him demon, devil. They made him fast all the time, so that he would cleanse himself of his sins. At fourteen, imagine that,” Gabriel snorted, not at all impressed. “As traditional as the Bensons' conception of sin was, at that age we could barely sin with our minds.”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head, not knowing where to start to comment on what he had just heard. Had Luc had to be led to adult life by all that disgust, by that abomination disguised as a religious education? His Luc?</p>
<p>“I… I didn't know. God, Gabe, I didn't have the slightest idea.”</p>
<p>Gabriel gave him a mild, indulgent look.</p>
<p>“I doubt anyone other than me has the slightest idea of what Luc went through as a kid,” he tried to calm him down. “I don't know all the details either. If Luc told me these things it is because as a boy I asked even more questions than I do now, I was worried and in the end he had to tell me something to appease me at least a little. He never took my advice to report everything to the police or our teachers and prevented me from doing it for him. He was too afraid of what people would say about him, of the change that would have come if the authorities had taken his custody away from his parents. He knew he was going to be turned over to social services and used to say that being in their care would have ruined his life. That social services would have ruined his life, can you believe it? After what those two pieces of shit his parents were had done to him and kept doing to him,” Gabriel remarked, shaking his head in disbelief even after all those years. “I'm afraid Luc never told anyone else. During his school years he has always refused any psychological support and I do not think anything changed when he went to college, apart from the fact that he left the house he grew up in and never looked back.”</p>
<p>After he caught his breath, Gabriel rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before returning to Sam’s distraught figure.</p>
<p>“Now you know why he is so reluctant to recall that time of his life,” he concluded, and it was like finishing a marathon.</p>
<p>Sam bit his lip hard enough to taste blood.</p>
<p>“Not when he is with you,” he noted cautiously, desperate for a strategy that would allow him to find his way out after that mass of revelations. “Not when you talk about high school together.”</p>
<p>Unexpectedly, Gabriel reacted by hinting a smile, albeit heartbroken.</p>
<p>“Because I know how to make him comfortable. I only make him remember the good stuff,” he explained punctually, relaxing a little after pouring himself a second round of whiskey and sipping it calmly. “And because his time with me was the only parenthesis of freedom he had. I was his safe haven. And I used to entertain him, Sam, I gave it all I had. God, I made him laugh. Because ten minutes of lightheartedness were enough for him to become the happiest person in the world, you know? He was just like me, under the fucked up education his shitty family imposed on him.”</p>
<p>Seeing Gabriel gulp down the last drop left in his glass after having vented those words, Sam swallowed yet another mouthful of bile at the idea that Luc had grown up in that circus of horrors.</p>
<p>“Even if his family no longer exists for him now, the Luc I know is nothing like that. He is not positive. He certainly isn’t cheerful. He doesn't even laugh, to be honest,” the twenty-six-year-old realized a moment later. Catching the flicker of curiosity in Gabriel's eyes, he wet his lips before continuing, hesitating on the edge of a very dangerous thought to share: “The Luc I know is…”</p>
<p>The ringing of the doorbell cut him off brutally. Violently torn away from the protected dimension that had been created between him and Gabriel, weaving threads like light but strong feathers, Sam winced. At the insistence of the bell, Gabriel could not help but get up and go to open the door.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Luc greeted from the threshold he crossed in a hurry, unpredictably happy. “My two favorite people in one room. What more could you ask for?”</p>
<p>In Sam's eyes, clouded by emotion, that grin turned into a smile.</p>
<p>And Gabriel, albeit fine with his conscience for having told the whole truth, nothing but the truth, called himself a patented jerk when he realized that his long tongue, combined with his undoubted mastery of the art of narration, had done nothing but soften Sam's heart towards Luc Benson.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <em>The Luc I know is…</em>
</p>
<p>Broken. The Luc Benson Sam knew was broken. The youngest of the couple was never more aware of it than during that mid-January Sunday afternoon, when, in a fit of sensitivity, he swore he would do everything in his power to heal Luc’s ancient wounds. To begin with, dragged by the same emotional instability mentioned above, he gave him the most intense hour of sex of his life.</p>
<p>One thing was certain: from the beginning of their relationship, Sam couldn’t have complained about getting bored in bed. Luc was a passionate lover to say the least and spending an average night with him meant trying more combinations of pleasure and pain than Sam had ever dared to experiment with all the men he had been with before him, were these material worthy of at least an invitation to dinner or one of the rare quickies Sam had taken advantage of in college after some booze-filled party.</p>
<p>But usually, in fact, it was Luc who had the reins in his hands, Luc who spent himself to create the best possible experience for both of them – or at least that was what Sam liked to believe, even at that point of their life together. That afternoon, however, once they left Gabriel on the ground floor and reached the bedroom, Sam put into practice everything he could remember being one of his boyfriend's favorite erotic incentives, determined to focus solely on making him feel good.</p>
<p>“Christ Almighty, Sammy,” Luc gasped, falling heavily with his back against the mattress after the third time in a row Sam took him over the edge.</p>
<p>Sam smiled at the muffled sound of that implicit compliment as he lay down next to him and, still out of breath, let himself be wrapped in the arm that Luc tucked under his neck and around his sweaty shoulders. In a moment the blonde man got closer to him with the rest of his body, losing himself in contemplating the chest that he began to cover with his fingertips in the least innocent way that Sam could have conceived.</p>
<p>“You're on fire today, sugar,” Luc commented in a whisper that he blew directly on Sam's skin, making him shiver. “You have never done this kind of things… not like this. What's got into you?” he asked with genuine curiosity, and then crossed the boy's gaze and gave him a grin. “Because I like it. I could pay, to have you like this all the time.”</p>
<p>His lips took hold of those of Sam’s and he returned the kiss with fervor, enjoying the taste of the salt on his tongue before Luc retired, leaving him with the task of a question to answer. Sam bit his swollen with kisses lips before settling for the truth.</p>
<p>It was true that Luc couldn't have looked more relaxed at that point, but that wouldn't have made him lenient if he had recognized a lie. Sam knew how little it was worthwhile to test his indulgence.</p>
<p>“Gabriel and I chatted for a while,” he admitted then, trying not to let his smile fall to the ground at the memory of what Gabe had told him.</p>
<p>Luc, who had bent over him to leave a trail of moist kisses around his navel as he went down to surround Sam’s hips with his hands, did not even open his eyes. Too busy chasing the heat that Sam's body was dissipating, he just raised and moved his lips to form a murmur that made him appear more excited at the idea of another round than he was interested in the boy's words.</p>
<p>“Uh-uh.”</p>
<p>Although he was no longer sure that his boyfriend wanted to listen to him, Sam persevered. Now, all of a sudden, he had the need to let him know about what had happened.</p>
<p>“We talked about when you two met,” he confessed, more nervous than he would have liked.</p>
<p>That handful of words was enough to break the spell. Luc's fingers wrapped around Sam's pelvis bones before snapping away and it was only a moment before the youngest man found himself pinned to the bed by the furious look of the thirty-one-year-old.</p>
<p>“What did he tell you?”</p>
<p>His voice, pure ice in total contrast to what Sam had been an accomplice and complacent victim of until a moment ago, was enough warning for the boy's heart to start pumping blood as it did during his morning workouts. Every primal instinct Sam had in his body was yelling at him to get away from that situation as soon as possible, but it was an order that the boy's sense of devotion would have never obeyed. On the other hand, not even his muscles would ever have been able to overcome the block and react in time.</p>
<p>“He... he told me about your family,” he had no choice but to answer, to which Luc raised his eyebrows in an unconvinced expression that somehow managed to be terrifying.</p>
<p>“He told you, you say. I don’t believe it. I believe it was you who asked him,” he put pressure on him.</p>
<p>Sam couldn't help but swallow hard, shaking his head more in an attempt to ward off the tears that were rising from his eyes than to deny the accusations.</p>
<p>“Luc, I just wanted to know how…”</p>
<p>“You,” the other one interrupted, letting the words slip between his teeth, “just wanted to mind my fucking business.”</p>
<p>It was the stillness of the situation, even more than the tone of voice of his partner, that frightened Sam. They were still lying in bed, like a moment before, and they could still have said they were immersed in the state of absolute peace that follows an orgasm if Luc hadn't had a murderous intent written on his face.</p>
<p>It took a considerable work of conviction from Sam’s part to risk exposing himself again, in the never-ending fear of being hit with every breath of air that left his lungs.</p>
<p>“I just wanted to understand you, Luc. I wish... I wish we talked about these things, because I really believe we both need it, that if we did we could…”</p>
<p>He had almost begun to hope he could make it, that he could at least reach the end of the short speech he had in mind, when his boyfriend stopped him by raising a hand. Before Sam could dodge him, Luc clawed his arm hard enough to hear a groan of pain.</p>
<p>“We will not talk about these things,” he said in a snarl, yanking Sam to get closer to his face and make sure his attention remained fixed on him. “Never again, do you understand me? If I hear you mention my so-called family again, I'll beat the hell out of you, you hear me? I will kill you,” he promised, vibrating with rancor.</p>
<p>He didn't wait for an answer. He got up and dressed before Sam could get to breathe again and left the room before a single tear could make its way down the young boy's cheek.</p>
<p>A few seconds later, the front door slammed violently and an utter silence fell on 21 Salisbury Willows like a heavy blanket, extinguishing every fire.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Now I’m extremely curious: did you expect this?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Still waters run deep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I sense a small surprise coming to you.</p>
<p>I am so glad I am finally giving you this chapter!</p>
<p>P.S. I'm placing here a disclaimer after someone rightly pointed out to me that Castiel and Charlie are not being respectful of psychiatric work ethics in this chapter. I don't know much about actual psychotherapy and its rules. This whole plot is completely fictional and I hope it doesn't offend you because of how it was written.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>It was not Castiel's habit to stay in his office beyond six in the afternoon. Especially on Thursdays, when he knew Dean would have been busy at the garage until at least half past seven – “They all come to me, the latecomers who love weekends on the road”, his husband's voice snorted in his head every time Castiel thought about it –, he liked to end each meeting and finish each report in time to be able to go home to take care of dinner.</p>
<p>That day, January 21, he was about to follow the same routine as always – turn off the computer, put his planner and water bottle back in his backpack, go to the bathroom to wash his mug before putting it back in the reserved for the staff cabinet on the corridor – when he heard a gentle knock knock at the door.</p>
<p>Castiel cleared his throat before giving anyone permission to enter and just had time to make a final check of his already cleared desk before looking up. Recognizing his favorite colleague standing in the doorway, he gave her a relaxed nod.</p>
<p>“Hello, Charlie.”</p>
<p>“Hey, stranger,” she replied, smiling despite the tired looked on her face.</p>
<p>“Come in,” he invited her, putting pressure on the armrests of his chair to stand up and moving towards the thermos he had prepared after lunch. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”</p>
<p>The girl wrapped her arms around her body, hugging herself with the Irish green sweater she wore along with her jeans, and she shook her head.</p>
<p>“Thanks, but I have an appointment with a patient in five minutes. I just came by to tell you something quick,” she announced, with a look that canceled out any beneficial effect of her faltering smile in Castiel.</p>
<p>The man succumbed to the temptation to seek support in the painted wood of his desk.</p>
<p>“Why do I feel like it's nothing good?” he suggested with a sigh.</p>
<p>“Because it’s nothing good”, Charlie admitted, biting her lip in that way that made her look more like a teenager at her first Comic-Con than the psychologist she was in the studio. The bomb hit the ground before Castiel had time to prepare for the impact: “This morning Sam skipped our session, without warning either before or after.”</p>
<p>No part of Castiel, at that point, found a single valid reason for keeping up appearances.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” he exhaled, pulling the rolling chair to him before dropping on it.</p>
<p>“I take it you didn't know anything either,” Charlie murmured, watching him bury his face in his hands and rubbing his arms as if the cold in the room had just gone bitter.</p>
<p>Both of them had worked in that field long enough to know that what might have appeared as an insignificant detail to an outsider was actually one of the worst signs for a person on a voluntary psychotherapy path.</p>
<p>Missing a session without giving a valid reason for one’s absence, especially in the early stages of therapy, denoted a collapse in interest and involvement and as such drastically decreased the likelihood that the patient would return the next time. Abandonment was upon them, failure just around the corner. This in the less complex contingencies. In critical cases such as Sam's, such a choice by the patient meant red alert.</p>
<p>Castiel allowed himself twenty seconds to think, but above all to breathe. He filled and emptied his lungs several times, until he was able to do it at an intensely slow pace, until the black cloud of thoughts that had obscured his vision of the future dissipated enough to allow him to see a way. Or at least the first of the steps he would have taken next.</p>
<p>It was with another sigh that he emerged from the makeshift refuge of his own hands, mentally scolding himself for taking so long to rebel. There was no time to waste. And it had nothing to do with it, but there was a little voice inside him that thought it best to scold him a second time.</p>
<p><em>In a little over two months you'll be a father</em> , the whisper annoyed him. <em>You </em> <em>better</em> <em> shorten your r</em> <em>esponse</em> <em> times by then, because it's a baby we're talking about.</em></p>
<p><em>Now it's Sam we're talking about</em>, Castiel remembered, forcing himself to go back on point.</p>
<p>“Thank you for letting me know, Celeste,” he finally managed to get out of his mouth, sounding definitely exhausted. “Now I'm sorry, but I have to… I have to come up with something.”</p>
<p>Charlie accepted both the use of her full name and the dismissal with a sympathetic nod.</p>
<p>“Of course. Let me know if I can be useful in any way,” she took her leave before going, pulling the door and walking down the hall towards her office.</p>
<p>Castiel paused for a moment to think about how Charlie must have felt in that moment. She was certainly not the first colleague he had seen fail trying to get close to a patient, to get him to trust them and confide in them – hell, the same fate had befallen him far more than once, in over a decade of counseling – but Charlie wasn't just a colleague.</p>
<p>Castiel interrupted that flow of thoughts to reach the cellphone that he had, albeit unconsciously, already pulled back out from his backpack. He would have taken care of Charlie's disappointment as soon as he got the all clear with Sam.</p>
<p><em>If I </em> <em>get that</em>, the evil voice reminded him.</p>
<p>Castiel silenced it with a language his mother would have never approved of.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It so happened that it was the Thursday evening immediately preceding premiere Saturday and that therefore midweek rehearsals of the show were all done with. The next time the company had met at the theater, it would have been within hours of going on stage.</p>
<p>When his phone started singing a country version of <em>Raspberry Beret</em>, Gabriel had just finished kneading the ricotta and spinach gnocchi with which he had decided to indulge himself that night at dinner.</p>
<p>Annoyed by the sudden noise – the cellphone ringtone volume was set much higher than the music streaming from the stereo – Momo the cat let out a meow of complaint from the stool she had perched on to supervise the cooking operations.</p>
<p>“I'm coming, I'm coming. You’re so whiny,” Gabriel teased her, sticking his tongue out before quickly wiping his hands on his apron and running to the counter.</p>
<p>He rushed to answer and barely had the time to read the name of whoever was calling him. He frowned. With that number on the screen, there could hardly be any good news on his way.</p>
<p>“Hello?”</p>
<p>“<em>Gabriel, it's me.</em>”</p>
<p>His voice, though familiar, was dominated by a tone that confirmed the boy's suspicions.</p>
<p>“Good evening, Doctor. Is something wrong?”</p>
<p>“<em>I don't know </em><em>yet</em><em>, but the premises are anything but encouraging. I need to talk w</em><em>ith</em><em> you. Do you have a few minutes for me?</em>”</p>
<p>“All the minutes you want,” Gabriel nodded, glancing at the dough he had left resting on the floured countertop, under a clean towel that would have kept it away from Momo’s paws even if he had ended up getting distracted.</p>
<p>“<em>Sam s</em><em>kipped</em><em> therapy this morning</em>,” the voice on the phone reported unexpectedly, and Gabriel nearly dropped the cat he had promptly picked up for some undeserved cuddles.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” he exclaimed even before formulating a coherent thought, with the cat's nails in his sleeve and in the flesh of his arm. “Oh, I’m sorry, Doctor.”</p>
<p>“<em>It was my reaction too</em>,” Castiel reassured him, trying hard not to panic a second time. He had never dreamed of setting any rules about language with Gabriel, but the boy, regardless, had always guaranteed him that form of respect. “<em>He should be w</em><em>orking</em><em> now, but I don't know how to find out </em><em>for sure</em><em> without looking suspicious</em>.”</p>
<p>Quickly following his own reasoning, Gabriel got there in the blink of an eye.</p>
<p>“Maybe you could call him on his office number and ask him to check if the library has a specific book available? I honestly don't think Sam is a good liar, but that would take away every doubt. If he answers, he is there.”</p>
<p>Gabriel recorded the sigh coming from the other end of the phone and remained silent, patiently waiting. He knew his interlocutor and his intelligence, he did not doubt that this was a gimmick he could have thought of on his own. But he also understood the chilling effects of fear rising from your ankles, so he didn't allow himself to judge. He would never do that, not with Castiel.</p>
<p>“<em>It's a </em><em>good</em><em> idea. I'll do it as soon as I’</em><em>ll hang up</em><em>, but </em><em>first </em><em>I need some more information.</em>”</p>
<p>“That’s what I’m here for,” Gabriel said, sitting up so that he could focus solely on the problem they were facing now.</p>
<p>“<em>I know you </em><em>have already </em><em>realized </em><em>without me telling you</em><em>, but this has just become an emergency situation</em>,” Castiel clarified, continuing with an admirable demeanor. “<em>Please, answer me h</em><em>onestly </em><em>now</em><em>: do you think Sam may have m</em><em>issed</em><em> therapy to meet Luc outside your house?</em>”</p>
<p>Gabriel allowed himself to think long enough not to risk offering a hasty answer that he might have regretted later. If Dr. Novak was managing to keep his composure and calm with all that apprehension for his brother-in-law weighing on his shoulders, he could definitely make an effort to limit the damage.</p>
<p>“After how they parted ways last Sunday, I rule it out,” Gabriel declared after several seconds, leaning an elbow on the counter to massage his temple with his index and middle fingers while his eyes looked blankly on the bare wall in front of him. “Luc left without even saying goodbye, slamming doors, and when Sam came downstairs his eyes were watery. I didn't get more than a handful of words from him before he got home, but I guess he told Luc that I told him about his parents.”</p>
<p>That revelation made a difference for Castiel.</p>
<p>“<em>Y</em><em>ou told</em><em> Sam about Luc's parents?</em>”</p>
<p>Gabriel nodded without anyone seeing him, trying to shake off the feeling that there was a note of reproach behind the psychotherapist's punctual question.</p>
<p>“Sam asked me,” he couldn't help but justify himself in the end.</p>
<p>“<em>He asked you about Luc?</em>” Castiel sighed. “<em>I was hoping he would ask about you.</em>”</p>
<p>He sounded clearly disappointed, but more like an accomplice would have been, with the intention of halving the burden of defeat and planning the next move together, than someone willing to reprimand. His diligent and exquisitely mannered behavior was enough to reassure his informant and was also what had prompted Gabriel to trust him for all those years.</p>
<p>“Me too. But I should have imagined that he would have asked me about Luc”, the youngest confided reluctantly. “His loyalty is there, Doctor. But last Sunday Luc left again in a hurry, so maybe…”</p>
<p>“<em>I admire the optimism with which you analyze their t</em><em>iffs</em>,” Castiel politely intervened, with the same disenchanted tone. “<em>But if o</em><em>ur plan is to</em><em> stand here and</em> <em>just </em><em>wait for Sam's devotion to Luc to d</em><em>ie</em><em> of i</em><em>ts</em><em> own free will, we c</em><em>an start digging our own</em><em> grave</em><em>s</em><em>.</em>”</p>
<p>Gabriel bit his lip, because he couldn’t have agreed more.</p>
<p>“I realize it may have been a mistake, telling him about the Bensons,” he continued after a moment.</p>
<p>Sure, because who better than him knew that the pity for your aggressor has a very good chance of worsening the situation, in cases like that? Gabriel had treasured Castiel's life lessons, the same ones that the doctor's brother-in-law seemed to refuse to listen to.</p>
<p>“But Sam insisted. If I had opposed, I would have risked losing him.” He paused and, during the silence that followed on the other end of the line, he began to think again that he had made an unforgivable mistake and withdrew with his tail between his legs: “Forgive me, Doctor. I should have called you and told you earlier. I'm afraid I've made things worse.”</p>
<p>At that symptom of a drastic drop in Gabriel’s self-esteem, Castiel rushed to support him as he always had.</p>
<p>“<em>No, no, Gabriel, do not worry, absolutely. Nothing would </em><em>have </em><em>change</em><em>d</em><em>. What you are doing f</em><em>or</em><em> us is precious, don't even dare to think that you </em><em>did any</em><em> damage. There is </em><em>very </em><em>little to e</em><em>xacerbate</em><em> here. Trust me on this, okay?</em>”</p>
<p>At that point Gabriel imagined the man, sitting in the chair he had in his office and from which he had always listened to his patients, and that mental picture calmed him in a few moments.</p>
<p>“Okay, Doctor,” he agreed with renewed confidence.</p>
<p>After taking a deep breath, Castiel got back on track too.</p>
<p>“<em>Forgive me for daring </em><em>to ask</em><em>, I know that I should be the one with the answers, but at the moment I can't come to any conclusions. You have a lot of previous experience with Luc and now you know Sam a little too, so... in your opinion, what's going on?</em>”</p>
<p>Gabriel moistened his lips. Now that he had gotten into the matter again, he didn't need to think long. After all, that question was so pressing that he had spent the whole week thinking about it.</p>
<p>“I think Luc was angry because he felt exposed and vulnerable in front of Sam's eyes. Remembering or talking about his family has always had that effect on him,” he explained. “I think right now he is carrying out one of his revenges, or we could also call them punishments, against Sam. He's probably not checking in with Sam and treating him as if he has to make up for something. And I think Sam is terrified at this point, because his biggest fear is to disappoint and irritate Luc, because he is afraid of losing him. And since he sees therapy as a betrayal toward Luc…”</p>
<p>“<em>Now that things got bad with Luc, he quit therapy. Jesus</em>,” Castiel realized, struck by how simple the truth could be, once defined in words. A moment later, he emerged from yet another sigh to say: “<em>Gabriel, remind me that I owe you a mention for an honorary degree in psychology.</em>”</p>
<p>Gabriel snorted an unexpected chuckle, appreciating the attempt to play it down.</p>
<p>“You’re too good,” he played along, but his smile lasted just for that moment. “Doctor?”</p>
<p>“<em>Yes.</em>”</p>
<p>“How do you want me to proceed?”</p>
<p>He imagined Dr. Novak swallowing and staring blankly at the lamp or at one of the family photographs he probably kept on his desk, facing him.</p>
<p>“<em>Once again I'm sorry to put this weight on your shoulders, but…</em>”</p>
<p>“Don't worry about it. I... I have grown fond of Sam,” Gabriel recognized, running a hand through his hair.</p>
<p>He closed his eyelids so as not to allow himself to lose sight of the goal despite his heart becoming heavy every time he thought about what Luc had become for Sam, who was losing more than everyone else.</p>
<p>He had discovered at his own expense that, as weeks passed and the memories of the young Winchester’s visits piled up in his mind, it became more and more difficult for him to remain quiet and focused in front of the limpid signs of a sick relationship that was going on under his roof. At Sam's expense, by the way. Fragile, stubborn, unreachable Sam.</p>
<p>“I want him to come out of this safe and sound,” Gabriel decreed, shaking off his pessimism. “And soon.”</p>
<p>“<em>Then I'm afraid you'll have to come up with something. With what just happened, I think you should r</em><em>isk</em><em> e</em><em>verything</em><em> with an emergency response. With what you told me, I'm afraid that Sam's next step will be to pack and go back to Luc, just to be forgiven</em>,” Castiel suggested, but he sold off his perplexity immediately afterwards: “<em>But I really don't have </em><em>any more </em><em>ideas and I </em><em>can’t</em><em> do anything, in my position. Sam is ready to bite me and Dean as soon as we get close to the subject. God, I only hope that he is at work and not a</em><em>t</em><em> Luc’</em><em>s right now</em>,” he prayed to himself, letting himself surrender to a sharp wave of despair that Gabriel did not feel like blaming.</p>
<p>The prospects were certainly not the brightest. Sam had surprised all of them, breaking the pattern of the previous weeks, and had left them without weapons or reference models. Gabriel really should have given his best and proved to Castiel his improvisational skills.</p>
<p>“I doubt that Luc would like to see him again so soon after what he considers a betrayal,” he tried to comfort the psychotherapist in the meantime, twisting his mouth as he realized how easy it still was, despite everything, to read his best friend of old. “He's a stubborn beast. He has always been.”</p>
<p>He heard something similar to a smile on the other end of the call.</p>
<p>“<em>Then h</em><em>e</em><em> has something in common with the Winchesters.</em>”</p>
<p>Gabriel bit his lip again, while his neurons worked at an unsustainable pace to sketch a plan.</p>
<p>“Maybe I could try something on Saturday, if Sam comes to the show.”</p>
<p>“<em>Try, Gabriel. It hurts me to g</em><em>ive you</em><em> this </em><em>burden of a</em><em> responsibility, but… you are our only hope.</em>”</p>
<p>“Once again, Doctor, don't worry about me too. I have a thick skin.”</p>
<p>Castiel nodded, with no doubt that it was the truth.</p>
<p>“<em>Keep me posted, will you?</em>”</p>
<p>“Will do,” Gabriel promised, before frowning: “May I ask you just one last thing? I think it's a fundamental piece of the puzzle that I'm trying to piece together.”</p>
<p>“<em>Of course</em><em>, go ahead.</em>”</p>
<p>“How is the relationship between Sam and his father today?”</p>
<p>Castiel took a moment longer than expected to answer.</p>
<p>“<em>Unfortunately John Winchester is no longer with us.</em>”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Gabriel whispered, starting to connect the dots. “So much makes sense now.”</p>
<p>He expected Dr. Novak to end the call, but Castiel spoke again, hesitating.</p>
<p>“<em>Did Sam</em><em>... did he tell you about John?</em>”</p>
<p>“Yes, he did,” the other man replied, cautious in front of his incredulous tone. “He told me about when they had a nasty fight about Sam’s desire to go to Stanford, when he was seventeen, and how his father replied to his essay on anti-militarism declaring he should join the Marines.”</p>
<p>He waited for an answer, anything. Instead, what emerged from the smartphone's microphone was a completely stunned reaction.</p>
<p>“<em>How did you do </em><em>it</em><em>?</em>”</p>
<p>Gabriel frowned: “Do what, doctor?”</p>
<p>“<em>Y</em><em>ou made him talk about</em><em> his father. John is practically a taboo t</em><em>opic</em><em> for Sam. He struggles even w</em><em>hen s</em><em>omeone</em><em> barely</em><em> n</em><em>ames</em><em> him and, if a</em><em>nyone</em><em> insists on the subject, he ends up fighting.</em>”</p>
<p>Gabriel perceived the admiration in the psychotherapist's voice, but, when he spoke, his was devoid of arrogance. He had just immersed himself in the memory of Sam telling him about his father, working so hard that he had to hold on to his cup of tea and take deep breaths every minute, and he could only feel the utmost respect for the effort which the boy had done to show him something true and vibrant.</p>
<p>“We were in a safe environment, which he perceived as safe, when I asked him about him,” he explained with a phlegm that came from the silenced desire to hold Sam in his arms to make him understand that it was all in the past, that it was a new day and that each wound brought with it the energy it needed to heal. “The two of us, some music and two cups of tea. I didn't force him. I offered him something in return.”</p>
<p>The silence that followed was solemn enough to make him feel Castiel's satisfaction even from a distance.</p>
<p>“<em>I am immensely proud of you, Gabriel</em>,” the man said, in fact, shortly after. “<em>P</em><em>lease... w</em><em>ork some more of your</em><em> magic with Sam, okay? Now I know you c</em><em>an</em> <em>do</em><em> it. If you've done it once, you can do it again. You just have to… go deeper.</em>”</p>
<p>For the first time since that conversation had begun, Gabriel felt a lump block his throat. He had just made the mistake of wondering what would have happened if he had failed.</p>
<p>“I'll give it my best shot, Doctor,” he declared in a low voice.</p>
<p>After the goodbyes, when the phone call ended with a click, Gabriel turned heavily towards the internal kitchen shelf, saw the dough for the gnocchi waiting there and collapsed to sit on the stool that had supported him up to that moment. He buried his face in the crook of the arms.</p>
<p>From his stereo, Richard Ashcroft was singing about being able to change in <em>Bitter Sweet </em>Symphony, and Gabriel had lost his appetite.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After hanging up, Castiel didn't have time to make sure Sam was in the library, where he should have been. As soon as he looked up from his cellphone, chasing the mere sensation of being watched, the motionless figure in his doorway made him jump in fright.</p>
<p>“Dean,” the man exhaled, feeling his heart pounding under the hand that he had instinctively brought to his chest. “How long have you been there?”</p>
<p>“Long enough,” his husband vibrated, and Castiel wouldn't need to notice his clenched fists next to his hips to know he wasn't shivering because of the cold.</p>
<p>The temperature in the room was optimal, but Dean's eyes looked like red-hot embers that could have reduced a centuries-old larch to ashes.</p>
<p>“Who were you talking to about Sam and my dad?” the thirty-one-year-old snapped sharply. “You called him Gabriel. Is this the same Gabriel my brother spends his Sundays with?”</p>
<p>His green irises and their unpromising light anchored Castiel to the chair. The eldest had to stop wondering what he was doing there at that time on a Thursday, to focus on his obvious need for reassurance. Castiel knew how his husband's mind worked: at that moment Dean was as angry as he was frozen in fear of having being kept in the dark about something that might have threatened Sam, rather than helped him. Castiel had to intervene instantly to get that idea out of his head.</p>
<p>“Dean...”</p>
<p>“You mentioned Benson too. And you said Sam stopped going to therapy. I heard you say that it is an emergency and I heard you put this emergency that concerns my brother in the hands of a person I have never seen and that I thought you didn't know either,” his partner interrupted him, stiffening his jaw. “What the fuck is going on, Cas?”</p>
<p>Although he recognized his own faults in his husband’s eyes, Castiel could not avoid throwing him a look that rebuked him.</p>
<p>“Did you eavesdrop the whole phone call?”</p>
<p>At that point Dean made him startle again, but this time it happened when he hit the door jamb with a hard slap. If at that time all the nearby offices had not already been empty, someone would surely have rushed in, alarmed by the sound of that blow.</p>
<p>“Don't use that tone with me!” Dean exploded, pointing his finger at Castiel but staying at a safe distance. “You have no right to be the one asking questions, not after what just happened. And don't even dream of denying that you kept something from me!”</p>
<p>Castiel swallowed, but otherwise remained still in his office chair.</p>
<p>“It was not my intention to deny anything,” he stated with a calmness that clashed with his husband’s deadly expression.</p>
<p>“Then answer me,” Dean hissed, and looking into his eyes Cas was sure he had never seen him in a rage of such a high level. “What the fuck is going on?”</p>
<p>Castiel sighed, raising a hand to rub his tired eyes.</p>
<p>“I'll explain you everything,” he promised, as he pointed to one of the armchairs that were placed halfway between the desk and the door. “Why don't you sit down?”</p>
<p>But Dean limited himself to incinerating him with a single lethal look.</p>
<p>“I am fine here,” he decreed, crossing his arms and showing off in a peremptory gesture. “Start talking.”</p>
<p>So, although he wanted more than anything else in the world to bring Dean close to him, hold him and beg him to grant him his forgiveness, Castiel had no choice but to close his eyes, breathe in all the air he could, bow his head and begin to narrate.</p>
<p>And finally he had the opportunity to reveal how, some time before, the fortuitous circumstances of his life had allowed him, for the first time in weeks, to hope that Sam Winchester could be saved.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Who is surprised and who isn’t?</p>
<p>Just to give you a peek into my mind, the still waters that run deep and that give the title to this chapter are of course Castiel, who quietly plotted with Gabriel and behind Dean’s back.<br/>Oh, the country version of Raspberry Beret that I inserted as Gabriel's ringtone is the cover made by Dick Jr &amp; The Volunteers. Is it just me dying every time Richard Speight Jr's voice is in the air?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. The favor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy New Year, everyone! May 2021 be gentle and fair with you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>“Gabriel Hale, the Gabriel with whom Sam has been spending his Sunday afternoons for a few weeks now,” Castiel clarified for Dean, who had stood his ground and kept his eyes on him from the doorway, with his arms firmly crossed, “is a patient of mine. He has been for a long time. When he began his therapy sessions with me, he was nineteen. I was twenty-three.”</p>
<p>Castiel zoned out for a moment as he thought back to the last year of his master's degree and remembered how, at the time, he had just started doing pro bono work to learn the ropes, as his university professors said, and do good, as his family had taught him and as the priest preached in church every Sunday morning. But these were details of his life that his husband already knew well.</p>
<p>“It is the only case I began to deal with at that time that I still follow nowadays,” the psychotherapist specified, and Dean raised his eyebrows with his typical of resentment wary attitude.</p>
<p>“He has been needing therapy for twelve years straight?”</p>
<p>Cas had to hold a bitter smile back, because Dean could have mistaken the disenchantment towards some members of the community for mockery against him.</p>
<p>“He didn't even start with me. Before graduation, he relied on his school counselor for a long time,” he told him, knowing that his partner would have required a decent amount of information about the person they were talking about before he could consider him worthy to help Sam. “Gabriel has been seeing a psychotherapist regularly since he was thirteen, to be precise. And yes, even though we've been able to decrease the number of meetings required to make him feel good, he still needs me once in a while. When we started, we met once a week. Now, about every three months I call him and we decide together if it is time to meet for a chat.”</p>
<p>Cas stopped there, and Dean, though curious as a monkey, refrained from asking uncomfortable questions about why this guy was in need of so much counseling. It was none of his business and, after all, he had more urgent reasons for which to press his husband.</p>
<p>“Tell me what else is behind that phone call,” he commanded in a tone that had nothing to envy to the one with which John Winchester had tried, for years, to break the stubborn will of his youngest son.</p>
<p>Cas shuddered, as if for a moment he had allowed himself to relax and Dean's return to drill sergeant mode was so sudden it alarmed him. His husband saw him pick up the pieces of his own self-control with a slow, deep breath, as he crossed his hand on the desk, and then there was no room in his attention span for anything other than those shocking blue irises that reflected the man’s mortified soul.</p>
<p>“For you to understand, it will be necessary to take a step back," Cas considered. “Remember December the 27<sup>th</sup>?”</p>
<p>Dean snorted, annoyed.</p>
<p>“You'll have to be more specific than that.”</p>
<p><em> Zero c</em><em>ollaboration. Fabulous</em>, Castiel thought with a heartbroken sigh, preparing himself for the inevitable explosion that would have followed the discovery.</p>
<p>“On December 27, three days after having yet another fight with you and staying away from home for hours in the snow, Sam... Sam went back to Luc, Dean.”</p>
<p>It was worse than Cas had predicted. It was much worse, because Dean didn't scream. No, Dean looked at him as if Castiel had stripped him of all certainty, as if he had just thrown him to the ground and raged against his exhausted body after having sworn to protect him from all harm.</p>
<p>“What?” he hissed, barely audible, and his inability to breathe normally again made his husband's heart shiver.</p>
<p>“They met in a coffee shop,” Cas forced himself to go on, knowing he had to tell him the whole truth. “They made up.”</p>
<p>It took Dean a few seconds to recover from the shock. He looked around, searching for words in the closed atmosphere of the office, searching for a reason, for any handhold that would have allowed him not to drown. But eventually he had to pull back with nothing in his hands. Castiel watched him run a hand over his face before his green eyes, now shining with the emotions that were turning his stomach, returned to attack the only culprit available.</p>
<p>“You knew that,” Dean hissed, biting his lip to keep his voice from shaking. “You knew and you thought it was right not to tell me a word about it?”</p>
<p>Castiel closed his eyelids for a moment in a pathetic attempt to escape his indignation.</p>
<p>“Could you... could you just let me finish, first? Then, if you’ll want, you will be free to get mad at me. To yell at me, throw something at me, whatever you’ll want. You will have the right to lash out, if you’ll still believe that I acted against your interest or Sam's. But first, please, let me tell you everything. Because the matter is not as simple and straightforward as you might have been led to believe. Do you agree?” he proposed, striving to offer his husband the most conciliatory tone possible.</p>
<p>When Dean's only reply was a stony silence combined with his indignant expression, Castiel took it as consent.<br/>“I didn't know Sam was going to meet Luc, at the time. I had no idea what was going on until, on the evening of the 27<sup>th</sup>, I picked up your brother from Salisbury Willows. But when Sam got in the car and told me that the friend he had dined with was called Gabriel Hale, I made the connection. The connection with Luc.”</p>
<p>Although he had pledged not to interrupt his partner, Dean slipped into one of his brief breaks.</p>
<p>“The connection with Luc? What connection?” he asked, distressed.</p>
<p>Castiel paid no attention to his interruption. Not that he had forgotten about him being in the room – actually, his entire being was projected towards Dean, filled with the prayers with which he was begging Heaven for his husband to grant him his forgiveness – but Cas was following a path of his own, his own memories, with too much zeal to be distracted. It was not for nothing that the days he was retracing had marked him, stressing him out to a fault.</p>
<p>“I lost sleep over it, that night. I did nothing but think about it until morning and in the end I decided that I could not turn my back on that opportunity. I had to try to turn the tide in our favor. If I hadn't at least tried, I would never have forgiven myself, Dean,” he confided in a hoarse, weakened voice. “If I had sat back, God would never have forgiven me. And neither would have you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>- December 28<sup>th</sup>, 2009 -</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Castiel Novak had never been the t </em> <em> ype </em> <em> of person who tends to make risky choices. </em></p>
<p><em>Throughout his life, he had always enjoyed feeling as prepared as possible before making a</em><em>ny kind of</em><em> final decision. He had planned his academic and work career well in advance and with precision, albeit always with an eye for t</em><em>he</em><em> modesty that he considered sacrosanct. He had even tried to plan his love life so that his heart wouldn't put a spanner in the works any more than necessary, and the plan h</em><em>ad</em><em> nearly </em><em>been </em><em>successful – </em><em>i</em><em>f o</em><em>ne</em><em> c</em><em>ould have </em><em>turn</em><em>ed</em><em> a blind eye o</em><em>n</em><em> his relationship with h</em><em>is professor of</em><em> psychometrics d</em><em>uring</em><em> his third </em><em>and fourth </em><em>year of college and, a few years later, h</em><em>is</em><em> m</em><em>eeting</em><em> with w</em><em>hom</em> <em>back </em><em>then </em><em>had </em><em>l</em><em>ooked like</em> <em>nothing more than </em><em>an immature green-eyed boy who had proposed t</em><em>o</em><em> him after less than four months of living together*.</em></p>
<p><em> In short, Castiel Novak liked to think that he was a balanced, sober person, in control of his senses as well as of his intellect. But that morning, after spending a sleepless night while his mind offered him </em> <em> possible </em> <em> solutions and terrible crossroads of fate in equal measure, something inside him clicked. His sister Eileen would probably have called it instinct, sixth sense, or th</em><em>at specific call she had named </em> <em> "fuck the world, I’ </em> <em> m giving it a </em> <em> try". I</em><em>n fact, </em> <em> Castiel found himself tapping on the screen of his smartphone and sending the message </em> <em> he had thought about </em> <em> before some stupid provident mechanism could induce him to s</em><em>tep back</em><em>. </em></p>
<p>To: Gabriel Hale (07.24 a.m.)</p>
<p>Good morning, Gabriel. Sorry if I am contacting you at this time in the morning and through unsuitable means, but I urgently need to see you. As soon as possible, please. Please reply directly to this message.</p>
<p>
  <em>The answer did not make him wait for more than a few minutes.</em>
</p>
<p>From: Gabriel Hale (07.32 a.m.)</p>
<p>Good morning, Dr. Novak. No problem, I'm on vacation until the new year. Could this afternoon at three be good for you?</p>
<p><em>T</em><em>hree o'clock was fine. </em><em>I</em><em>t i</em><em>mplied</em><em> waiting, </em><em>though</em><em>. During the morning Castiel had to exhaust all </em><em>his</em><em> self-control reserves to avoid chasing his own stray thoughts and to focus on the patients who needed him immediately. But he couldn't help being continually distracted by the protests of his own instinct, which shouted that it was Sam who needed him most in that situation, having r</em><em>un back</em> <em>in</em><em>to his a</em><em>buser’s arms</em><em>.</em></p>
<p><em> The hands of the clock moved with an unspeakable slowness until they reached the agreed time. Before the moment came when knuckles banged on his o</em><em>ffice </em> <em> door, Castiel wiped his palms on his pants more times than was socially acceptable to admit. He wasn't ready. His head ached, nervousness was eating him alive and he wasn't p</em><em>repared </em> <em> for what he was supposed to do. He couldn't even figure out if he was morally right, </em> <em> no matter how many times he weighted his reasons and his faults. </em></p>
<p>Knock knock<em>, the knuckles announced from beyond the threshold.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel heaved a surrendering sigh, preparing as he could in the few seconds left.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Come in, Gabriel.”</em></p>
<p><em> A familiar face, even with the addition of the beard that Gabriel had begun to grow and to cure in </em> <em> the most </em> <em> recent years, appeared </em> <em> on the threshold </em> <em> after the door opened along with a f</em><em>ree </em> <em> smile. </em></p>
<p>“<em>Good afternoon, Doctor.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Good afternoon to you,” Castiel replied, responding warmly to h</em><em>is</em><em> smile. “Please have a seat.”</em></p>
<p><em> Gabriel slipped into the room and closed the door behind him with a fluid gesture that revealed the number of times he had found himself in th</em><em>at </em> <em> same situation. At the beginning of their professional relationship it had taken some time for Gabriel to feel comfortable in the formal atmosphere of the s</em><em>tudy </em> <em> , but now Castiel would not have exchanged the ease of his approach with any other stage of their m </em> <em> ore than one decade long </em> <em> relationship as psychotherapist and patient. </em></p>
<p>“<em>Thanks.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em> Castiel waited for the man to choose the same little arm chair as always before joining him, settling on the one that was a little to the side, but allowed him to be close to Gabriel and to look him in the face. </em>
</p>
<p>“<em>We haven't seen each other in a while, huh?” he dropped then, almost sound as casual as he would have wished, while he relaxed against the backrest to allow Gabriel to do the same.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Five months and a week,” the thirty-one-year-old said after a quick mental effort, placing his hands on his stomach. Faced with Castiel's surprised expression, he laughed at him. “Forgive me for the enthusiasm, but I'm quite proud of it.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>You should be</em><em>. Celebrating victories is an excellent habit,</em><em>”</em><em> Castiel pointed out with a satisfied nod. “How are your mom and Frank?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Very well, thank you. S</em><em>till</em><em> in love like two kids at t</em><em>he</em><em> prom.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>I'm g</em><em>lad to hear that</em><em>. W</em><em>hat about </em><em>your sister?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>She j</em><em>ust won’t</em><em> stop growing </em><em>up, that brat</em><em>. She is </em><em>so </em><em>d</em><em>arn</em><em> beautiful, y</em><em>ou know</em><em>? </em><em>It looks like b</em><em>oys do nothing but h</em><em>over</em><em> around her like flies with a jar of jam,” Gabriel sighed, rolling his eyes melodramatically. “</em><em>I wish</em> <em>I </em><em>w</em><em>as</em><em> so attractive when I was not even fifteen. I would have b</em><em>roken so many hearts!”</em></p>
<p>“<em>So</em><em> you have to keep your eyes open. S</em><em>uitors i</em><em>n every corner,” </em><em>C</em><em>astiel joked.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Gabriel winked, playing along.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>No peace for a righteous older brother, D</em><em>octor. </em><em>And no gratitude.</em><em>”</em></p>
<p><em> Castiel nodded sympathetically. T</em><em>hen </em> <em> he took a moment </em> <em> for himself </em> <em> , looking down, and almost completely lost his smile before finding the courage to face the real reason o </em> <em> f </em> <em> that meeting. </em></p>
<p>“<em>I guess you must be</em><em> curious to know why I asked you to come h</em><em>ere</em><em>,” he f</em><em>inally started</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>At first Gabriel did not pay much attention to his sudden change of expression.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Are you kidding me? </em><em>I'm dying t</em><em>o know</em><em>,” he confessed, opening his eyes </em><em>wide </em><em>with theatricality. “Why so much caution? Let me tell you, a text message isn't really y</em><em>our</em><em> style.”</em></p>
<p>Just like what I'm about to ask you<em>, Castiel thought, giving him a polite smile before leaning towards him conspiratorially. </em></p>
<p>“<em>Gabriel, what I would like to share with you is a very, very delicate personal matter,” he c</em><em>onfided</em><em>, ending up teasing even more the </em><em>man</em><em>'s already alert senses. “T</em><em>hat is why</em><em>, before I </em><em>can</em><em> share the reason why I got in touch with you </em><em>this morning</em><em>, I need you to swear </em><em>on anything you value the most</em><em> that not even the slightest part of this conversation will leave this room.”</em></p>
<p><em> Given the speed with which Gabriel widened his eyes at that s</em><em>entence</em><em>, Castiel cared to add in a haste: “Nothing I am about to say or ask you is in any way illegal, if that is what worries you. </em> <em> I mean, it might </em> <em> be </em> <em> in terms of psychiatric ethics, but that is nothing you n</em><em>eed </em> <em> to worry about. </em> <em> H</em><em>owever</em><em>, </em> <em> I need you to p</em><em>romise this </em> <em> to me for my loved ones’ </em> <em> safety, </em> <em> before we continue</em><em>.” </em></p>
<p>“<em>Whoa, s</em><em>o much for</em><em> reassurance!” Gabriel exclaimed, w</em><em>ithdrawing</em><em> a little, as if hit by an icy b</em><em>last</em><em>. “Doctor, if I were talking to anyone else, at this point I would be s</em><em>cared shitless.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>I'll take it as a compliment,” Castiel smiled, thanking the angels of Heaven for h</em><em>is longest-running patient’s</em><em> genetic propensity to d</em><em>ownplay</em><em>. At that j</em><em>uncture</em> <em>of his</em><em> mission, he was in desperate need f</em><em>or some</em><em> lightness. “The point is, I'm a</em><em>bout</em><em> to ask you a huge favor, Gabriel. But before I know if your </em><em>answer will be a</em><em> yes or </em><em>a </em><em>no, </em><em>even </em><em>before I </em><em>can</em><em> share what is happening and why I have decided to ask for your help, I need to know that this matter i</em><em>s going to</em><em> stay b</em><em>etween</em><em> us. L</em><em>ook</em><em>, I'm not asking you to agree to help me, not yet. I'm just asking you to be d</em><em>iscreet</em><em> about what I am going to tell you, as I always have been with what you have told me.”</em></p>
<p><em>The difference was that, while Castiel had to be true to </em><em>his</em> <em>doctor-patient confidentiality </em><em>pledge</em><em>, Gabriel had no tangible reason for g</em><em>ranting</em><em> such a promise, let alone keep his word. But Castiel would never have turned to him if he had harbored even the slightest doubt about his moral integrity, the same one that Gabriel was clearly q</em><em>uestioning</em><em> as he chewed his lower lip without taking his eyes off his psychotherapist’</em><em>s </em><em>tense expression.</em></p>
<p>“<em>It looks like an honest agreement to me,” he finally declared, convinced. “You have my word, Doctor. Now tell me, what's the problem?”</em></p>
<p><em> Castiel became aware of h</em><em>ow he had been </em> <em> h</em><em>olding </em> <em> his breath only when a huge sigh made him expel all the air </em> <em> he had withheld </em> <em> and relax his lungs. Before he could even recover from the relief, he hastened to continue, as if a taciturn l</em><em>ittle boy hiding </em> <em> inside him feared that Gabriel might take back his word at any moment. </em></p>
<p>“<em>All right. Do you remember all the times you told me about your turning point, high school?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Mh-mh</em><em>. O</em><em>f course,”</em><em> Gabriel nodded with that sparkling energy on</em><em>ly he had</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>And do you also remember the times you told me about the boy who was your best friend back then?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Sure. Luc. I met him again recently. </em><em>The little coincidences of life,”</em><em> the m</em><em>an</em><em> replied cheerfully, having no idea that he had just confirmed Castiel's darkest suspicions.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>The dark-haired man did his best not to give in to anxiety and continued to ask questions with the same phlegm as ever.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Mh. And when did you meet him, exactly?”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Just yesterday. It g</em><em>ave me quite a jolt</em><em>, f</em><em>inding myself</em><em> in front of him </em><em>just </em><em>like that </em><em>after all this time,”</em><em> Gabriel laughed, </em><em>reliving the joy he had felt the day before</em><em>. “Why are you asking me?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel ignored the question, calm but determined to achieve his goal.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Was he alone?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Gabriel took a second to accept his doctor’s new way of doing, then continued with the usual ease.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>No, </em><em>he wasn’t</em><em>. </em><em>No, h</em><em>e was with his boyfriend. A guy, </em><em>D</em><em>octor, I </em><em>mean</em><em>...” Gabriel rolled his eyes and waved a hand eloquently. “Jesus, y</em><em>ou</em><em> should have seen him. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I may have l</em><em>ooked</em><em> like a maniac </em><em>for the whole evening</em><em>, but </em><em>I’ll tell you </em><em>it was worth it, he was so handsome. Stunning, starting from h</em><em>is</em><em> eyes, of </em><em>such </em><em>an indefinable color. I know you can understand me. I also know that </em><em>you’re </em><em>married, but you see, this g</em><em>uy was</em><em>…”</em></p>
<p><em> Castiel, stiff as a log for reasons that had nothing to do with the flattery with which Gabriel was p</em><em>lating </em> <em> h</em><em>is </em> <em> memory of C</em><em>astiel’s </em> <em> brother-in-law, had no qualms about interrupting him. He needed that agony to end. </em></p>
<p>“<em>Sam,” he j</em><em>ust</em><em> said, and the river of </em><em>happy </em><em>words that was flowing out of Gabriel's mouth stopped abruptly. Castiel o</em><em>pposed</em><em> his somber calm to the amazement that his patient had found himself slapped in the face. “The boy's name is Sam, right?”</em></p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Yes, Dean asked Cas to marry him after only four months of them living together. Which, however, does not mean that they got married shortly after they were together!<br/>To clarify their marital situation, I will leave the storyline of their relationship here: in the summer of 2004, Dean and Cas become a couple. At the end of the summer of 2005, they start living together. On January 1st, 2006, Dean asks Cas to marry him. The wedding, initially scheduled for that year in the summer, is postponed due to John’s death, who passes away at the end of June 2006. Between various postponements and the desire to get married with good weather, Dean and Cas will end up getting married on June 16, 2007.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Annihilated</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Gabriel hesitated for a moment, as if he doubted it would be convenient for him to speak again. But he didn't last long.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>How the heck do you know his name?”</em></p>
<p><em>Castiel s</em><em>ighed and closed his eyelids for a brief moment</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>Because we are talking about my brother-in-law. My husband’s brother.</em><em> Sam Winchester.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Even if Gabriel was flabbergasted, Castiel didn’t really realize. By then he was already too busy rubbing his eyes and his face with one hand, trying to recover and pull himself together for what was to come. His patient’s choice of words, though, was what shook him and saved him from that self-imposed solitude.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I woul</em><em>d congratulate y</em><em>ou</em><em> on marrying a guy with great genes, but right now even y</em><em>ou are</em><em> starting to scare me.”</em></p>
<p><em>Looking up, Castiel realized that joking had become a defensive barrier for Gabriel, so he hurried </em> <em>up </em> <em>to fix it.</em></p>
<p>“<em>You </em><em>must not</em><em> to be afraid of me, </em><em>that</em><em> I can assure you. Trust me, please, and listen,” he intervened, straightening his back and turning to Gabriel with an imitation of the serene smile that he had always been able to offer him, at each of their appointments in the studio. “I </em><em>woul</em><em>d like to understand what happened yesterday, from the moment you met Sam and Luc to the moment I came to pick up Sam </em><em>outside</em><em> your house.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>You?”</em><em> Gabriel exclaimed, clinging to the armrests of the </em><em>arm</em><em>chair in a rush of theatricality. “Wait a minute, so that</em><em> amazing</em><em> Chevrolet Impala w</em><em>as yours</em><em>?”</em></p>
<p><em>T</em><em>aken aback by his return to joviality, Castiel snorted in </em> <em>a </em> <em>laughter.</em></p>
<p>“<em>It's Dean's,” he corrected him, thinking about how much h</em><em>is</em><em> husband would h</em><em>ave got</em><em> along with someone </em><em>who proved to be so </em><em>ready to praise h</em><em>is</em> <em>B</em><em>aby</em><em> in no uncertain terms. Then, taking advantage of the crooked smile on h</em><em>is</em><em> patient's face, he pulled out of h</em><em>is</em><em> sleeve their old agreement, the one that had allowed Castiel to understand Gabriel and the latter to let t</em><em>he first</em><em> soothe his pain: “H</em><em>ow</em><em> about w</em><em>e do</em><em> as we have always done? In exchange for your story, you will get mine. I'll explain everything to you. So, Gabriel, do you want to play?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>The man’s half smile became a lightning-fast grin.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Definitely yes.”</em></p>
<p><em>And so it h</em><em>appened</em> <em> that, after Gabriel d</em><em>escribed</em> <em> his 27</em><sup><em>th</em> </sup> <em> December from top to bottom and confirmed all </em> <em>of</em> <em> his psychotherapist’</em> <em>s</em> <em> assumptions regarding the meeting between Sam and Luc, Castiel made him a</em><em>ware of</em> <em> everything that had preceded that fatal event. He spared him nothing. Castiel had a gentle soul, but </em> <em>he was </em> <em>c</em><em>onscious</em> <em> of the needs </em> <em>that had come up with the current</em> <em> circumstances. Saving Gabriel from the most gruesome details of what Luc h</em><em>ad done</em> <em> to Sam wasn't going to help anyone, not in the long run. Castiel had clear priorities: he had only one chance, one single plan, and he would not have allowed any scruples to doom him to failure.</em></p>
<p><em>The other side of the coin of this firmness, however, condemned him to pay the price: Gabriel was annihilated by the truth about his best friend from high school. He had never doubted that Luc was a n</em><em>ormal</em> <em> person – troubled by what life had reserved for him d</em><em>uring</em> <em> some of h</em><em>is</em> <em> most fragile phases, yes, but still normal – and being forced to confront his dark side destroyed his spirit. Fortunately for Castiel, Gabriel had always r</em> <em>esponded well to thrashings</em><em>, in whatever form they presented themselves.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I can't believe it,” he began to mumble once Castiel finished t</em><em>alking</em><em>, putting a hand o</em><em>n</em><em> his </em><em>own </em><em>forehead as he feverishly shook his head. “I can't believe Luc </em><em>did</em><em>…”</em></p>
<p><em>When it became clear that he would not h</em><em>ave been</em> <em> able to complete the sentence, Castiel approached him cautiously, but without giving up the willpower with which he had started </em> <em>the conversation</em> <em>.</em></p>
<p>“<em>I</em><em> can show you p</em><em>ictures</em><em> of one of the times he reduced Sam to </em><em>a </em><em>pitiful condition, if they can help convince you.”</em></p>
<p>“<em>No, I don't... I don't want to see them,” Gabriel refused, chasing away that possibility with a s</em><em>udden movement</em><em> of his hand. His closed eyes, however, didn't last long. Cas soon found the pain of those irises pressed into his own, as if a direct glance could be comforting. “Y</em><em>ou</em><em> said he... d</em><em>id</em> <em>he</em><em> really d</em><em>id </em>that <em>too</em><em>, to Sam</em><em>?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Castiel did not look away.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>If you're referring to when I said that he also raped him, yes, he did. I have no doubt about it, although Sam entrenched himself behind a fantasy of his own after mention</em><em>ing</em><em> it only once, after i</em><em>t</em> <em>had</em><em> just happened.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Gabriel collapsed with his face in his hands.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>I can't believe it,” he repeated. “Not Luc. Not after everything h</em><em>e’s gone through.”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>This time, Castiel gave him more tact.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>You know as well as I do how easily a victim of abuse in childhood can become a</em><em>n abuser</em><em>, once grown up. You know the stat</em><em>istic</em><em>s,” he reminded G</em><em>abriel</em><em> benevolently.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Gabriel nodded mechanically and for a long time, as if he needed to vent some excess energy.</em>
</p>
<p>“<em>Yes, I know them, I know them by heart. But it still seems impossible to me that he…”</em></p>
<p>“<em>Did you notice</em><em> anything strange in h</em><em>is attitude</em><em>? In the way he interacts with Sam?” Castiel </em><em>approached him cautiously</em><em>, always available </em><em>for his discomfort</em><em>. It wasn't a subject he would ever </em><em>have</em><em> allow</em><em>ed</em><em> himself to introduce in a harsh tone, not with this particular boy. “Would you consider helping me, if over time you </em><em>should become convinced</em><em> that I'm right about Luc?”</em></p>
<p><em>The g</em><em>lance</em> <em> Gabriel raised on him was the closest to pure terror that the t</em><em>hirty-one</em><em>-year-old could get </em> <em>to</em><em>. Castiel had seen that expression age Gabriel's face several times during their chats, and each had been the equivalent of a stab in the side.</em></p>
<p>“<em>What are you asking me, </em><em>D</em><em>octor?” </em><em>the youngest</em><em> whispered.</em></p>
<p><em>Castiel swallowed, impatient and terrified. If he had</em> <em> got</em> <em> a no, he would have had no other means at his disposal. </em> <em>He would have been out of bullets</em><em>, </em> <em>he could have said he had fired all the </em> <em>cartridges </em> <em>he had</em><em>. It would h</em><em>ave been</em> <em> the end. Thus it was that he chose the most powerful of verbs. All right, perhaps t</em><em>he most powerful</em> <em> after the verb "to love".</em></p>
<p>“<em>I'm asking you to save Sam Winchester's life before it's too late.”</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Castiel had to recognize it, Dean had respected his wish by remaining silent while his husband narrated those events dating back to almost a month before.</p>
<p>At some point in the story the youngest had begun to walk along the diameter of the room back and forth and had never stopped, but Castiel was able to bear that. He understood that Dean needed it. He always needed to walk when he was nervous and right now, judging by the severe lines that had drawn on his face, he was on the verge of a neurosis of monumental dimension. At the expense of Cas.</p>
<p>But his husband preferred not to think about it. He hadn't finished spitting out all the truth yet.</p>
<p>“You don't know how long I've been thanking Heaven for helping me make that mental connection. Gabriel told me about Luc many times over the years, but using only his shortened first name. And without a surname, the idea that it was the same Luc as Sam’s never even crossed my mind. Not until that night,” he paused and allowed himself a sigh. “Anyway, Gabriel agreed to help me out of gratitude, despite the fact that he found it hard to believe that his former best friend could have become such a monster. I guess keeping his case pro bono for all this time ended up making him feel indebted,” he considered under Dean's hard stare. He went on with downcast eyes: “At first, in fact, he was shocked by the possibility that I could be right about Luc. Out of kindness he agreed to follow my plan, hoping to be able to prove me wrong as soon as possible. He called Luc and offered to host both him and Sam at his house once a week so they could be together without us knowing anything about it.”</p>
<p>“That is to say, without <em>m</em><em>e</em> knowing anything about it," Dean precised, with such a warning in his voice that Castiel hurried to lower his gaze again.</p>
<p>“Well, yes,” he had to admit. “Anyway, Gabriel is by no means a fool. It was enough for him to see Sam and Luc together just one more time, before he was convinced that I had told the truth. What is it?”</p>
<p>From purely infuriated, Dean’s expression had suddenly turned sad.</p>
<p>“I was just thinking,” he murmured, “that from what you tell me a stranger took a lot less time than me to understand what my brother was going through.”</p>
<p>Castiel quickly understood his guilt and shook his head in an attempt to comfort him from a distance. He didn't know how that day would have turned out in the end, but one certain thing was that his husband would have forcefully pushed him back, if only he had dared to leave his rolling chair and get close to his pain before he had enough time to fully express it.</p>
<p>“Because I gave him all the possible and imaginable tips, Dean,” he commented, treading on his name to encourage him not to take on useless accusations. “You couldn’t count on anything like that when this story began. None of us could.”</p>
<p>Dean raised a tired eyebrow.</p>
<p>“I had my sixth sense.”</p>
<p>“And Gabriel has a kind of experience that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Trust me.”</p>
<p>“Don't ask me to trust you right now, I don't want to know how it would end,” Dean decreed, ignoring the chills that ran through his husband and his annihilated expression. He simply commanded: “Continue.”</p>
<p>Castiel swallowed that bitter pill with difficulty, but went on hoping that the situation would clear up soon.</p>
<p>“Gabriel's job is to keep an eye on Luc, to make sure he doesn't go too far with Sam.”</p>
<p>But given those premises, Dean didn't let him free to keep talking for long.</p>
<p>“What the fuck does that mean, "make sure he doesn’t go too far"?” he exploded with his eyes bulging out, making Cas jump. “That piece of shit kept beating my brother and who knows what else and neither you nor this guy you trust so much moved a muscle to avoid it?”</p>
<p>Castiel found some confidence, just enough for his face to cloud over.</p>
<p>“It's not like Gabriel didn't do anything, when something happened. He did what he could, within the limits of what Sam allowed him to do. And what could <em>I</em> have done? Break into his house and take Sam away by force? We saw how great our results were when we tried that technique, didn’t we? You saw that with your own eyes,” he emphasized, raising his voice half a tone so that Dean understood that he was serious and still believed in the decisions he had made a few weeks earlier.</p>
<p>His husband was wearing all the stubbornness he was capable of, but Castiel knew it was his duty to tell him what he didn't want to hear too.</p>
<p>“Dean, for the umpteenth time, Sam doesn't want to leave Luc. Imposing our rules like we would do with a capricious child is not the way we are going to achieve something with him. Also, Gabriel tried to get close to Sam, to become his friend, to reduce the distance to try to make him realize what kind of person Luc is. My goodness, I have just found out he did it!” he exclaimed, raising his palms toward the ceiling. He still found it hard to believe that Gabriel had succeeded where an entire family had failed, but after all that could be the power of a new, personal approach. “Sam confided in him, Dean, to the point of talking with him about your father. How long since he last did it without losing control? You have to admit, we can only dream of the kind of results Gabriel is achieving with your brother,” he concluded before begging him: “Please, don't ask me to stop him, not now that there is real hope of succeeding.”</p>
<p>An absolute silence followed and during that Castiel felt like a man who had been condemned to stoning and now waiting for the anticipated storm of stones to start raining down on him. He expected an explosion of any kind. But Dean wasn't quite ready to give him a quick death.</p>
<p>“So this guy... this Gabriel,” he said slowly. “He kept you updated the whole time.”</p>
<p>Taking it as a sign of openness to the idea that everything that had been done had been devised and implemented only for Sam's sake, Castiel agreed with full confidence.</p>
<p>“Yes, I made Gabriel tell me everything. It has always been totally under contr-…”</p>
<p>“And in almost a month,” the other man interrupted him in a low growl, and never a tremor in his jaw was more revealing, “the idea of telling me something about this never even touched your brain?”</p>
<p>Castiel let out an exhausted sigh, dropping his head forward.</p>
<p>“Dean…”</p>
<p>“Why? I just want to know why,” his husband vibrated, without giving him any room to maneuver. It was his turn now, and he would not have wasted it by letting himself be spoken to. “Why didn't you tell me anything about your fantastic plan to save my brother with the help of a complete stranger? A plan that allowed Sam to keep seeing the person who beat and raped and mentally abused him?”</p>
<p>Dean was devastated. Castiel could see his resentment spelled out in his eyes. His eyes, which were on the verge of tears, tears that the eldest of the couple felt burning on him like splinters of hell that had been born from his own sins. Certainly not from those of the love with which he had sworn to spend a life of loyalty and care.</p>
<p>Despite the goodness of his intentions and the belief that he had done his best with what he had been given, looking at Dean Castiel realized that it had been a long time since he had not felt so close to the lowest part of himself.</p>
<p>“Dean, I wanted to tell you about it…”</p>
<p>Everything about Dean – his look, his posture, the vibrations he emanated – seemed to be engaged in an entirely internal attempt to deny a terrible hypothesis that he really didn't want to believe. Castiel knew <em>t</em><em>hat</em> was his real enemy.</p>
<p>“Tell me about it <em>now</em>, Castiel.”</p>
<p>His husband shivered at the sound of his full name, feeling like when he was six years old and was sent with his nose in a corner of the living room by his mother after spending an entire afternoon pestering his sister by pulling her pigtails. Dean couldn't have played a more effective card than that. Castiel swallowed before getting out even what he would have preferred to keep to himself.</p>
<p>“At first, when I was planning it with Gabriel, I was… I was scared. I was afraid you would have stopped me if you had known. That you wouldn't have been able to bear the thought of letting Sam keep seeing Luc, that you wouldn't have allowed it…”</p>
<p>That single step was too much for Dean, who smacked a hand on his thigh hard before shouting.</p>
<p>“Of course I wouldn't have allowed it! It’s insane, this whole thing is fucking insane!”</p>
<p>But despite the screams, his was not an invitation to silence. Cas had to resist the temptation to keep quiet. How much simpler was life when he was in first grade and all that was expected of him was that he endured his telling-off with his head down? Continuing to talk even knowing that this would condemn him, instead of making him worth of forgiveness, was torture.</p>
<p>“Then, moving forward, that idea only got stronger. I believed in my plan, Dean, I still believe in it. And I was afraid that you…”</p>
<p>“You were afraid I would have messed it up,” Dean hissed with a sick, false but irreducible half smile. As lethal to himself as to his husband, or perhaps more. “That I would have rained on your parade. Because that's what I do, right? I always manage to mess everything up, starting with my relationship with Sam. I guess you thought the best thing to do was to take choice away from me and decide on your own what was best for my brother, since I'm a no-good prick.”</p>
<p>Castiel parted his lips in astonishment. Of course, he hadn't shared a thing with Dean because he had feared that his red-hot temper would have ruined the delicate balance of the mission he had devised, but he had never thought of it in those terms.</p>
<p>“I've never said such a thing!” he protested, slamming his hands on the desk and standing up.</p>
<p>Dean was not in the least afraid. He stood still, far too long, before spitting the sentence in his face.</p>
<p>“Just because you don't have the balls to do it. But that's what you think. I can see it in your eyes,” he shivered.<br/>And before Cas could remember how to articulate a reply, Dean sprinted to the exit, pushed the door open and disappeared into the corridor.</p>
<p>“Dean, wait! Dean!” his husband called him, running after him after a strong curse word tightened his lips. He had to stop abruptly on the threshold of his office, blocked by a passing colleague, and from over the man’s shoulder he saw his husband's back moving further and further away. “Dean, come back here! I'm sorry!”</p>
<p>But Dean didn't look back, didn't even slow down. In less than ten seconds, he was gone.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. On your doorstep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let's go back to the main issue - and start digging into my favourite part of this story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Sam had no idea why Dean and Cas weren’t talking to each other. All he knew was that on Thursday night he had come home after his shift at the library and had found his brother-in-law cooking with a long face and his brother entrenched in their bedroom with a locked door.</p>
<p>Sam and Castiel had dined without the third member of the family, accompanying their turkey burgers and stir-fried peas with a silence that Sam hadn't been able to crack. Tired as he was, he had barely managed to cast questioning glances in Castiel's direction, but his brother-in-law just shook his head in exasperation and made Sam's attention fall back onto his plate. For a moment the boy had felt like a scolded child at the dinner table, but then he had surrendered. He had to give Dean and Cas time to solve whatever altercation they needed to untangle.</p>
<p>Also because Sam was too exhausted to investigate any further. He had been unable to get more than three hours of sleep each night since Sunday and, despite having hit worse records during college exam sessions, he could no longer pretend not to notice the results: both his body and his mind were giving in. The outrageous amounts of caffeine he had been gulping down since Monday morning had helped his appearance, but his head was aching constantly and that afternoon he had nearly fallen asleep while searching for some titles for two biotech undergraduates on his computer.</p>
<p>He knew that the effects of lack of sleep on the human body are comparable to those of alcohol abuse and he began to worry to the point of having inconsistent thoughts: could he alternate the coffee he needed to maintain alert at work with sleeping pills? Would they have handed him something at the pharmacy without a shred of prescription? Surely not.</p>
<p>But these thoughts were only useful to avoid the real problem. Every so often he had to be distracted from the fact that Luc had begun to ignore him from the moment he had run away from Gabriel's apartment the previous Sunday. And by "ignoring" he meant no contact, not even the smallest. No replies to his phone calls, constant messages, not even to the emails with which Sam had begun to harass him starting from Monday.</p>
<p>It hadn't taken Sam long to realize that the anger his boyfriend had thrown at him when he had confessed to knowing about his parents had only increased as days went by.</p>
<p>Not that it was the first time that Luc had expressed his resentment by imposing himself with some good old silent treatment. For the first few days, Sam kept telling himself that he should have gotten used to it, but as the middle of the week approached, it became particularly difficult to dispel the feeling that Luc was about to leave him. But even more difficult to deal with, if possible, was the suffocating feeling of having no one to talk to.</p>
<p>The afternoons he had spent with Gabriel had set a high bar for him, in this sense. With him, Sam had rediscovered the pleasure of sharing memories, even painful ones, with someone who was ready to grant rather than demand. It was something that Sam had hoped he could replicate with Luc and that he felt he could no longer count on Dean and Castiel for. Let alone Charlie, with whom he had never really managed to open up even on minimal issues – not for nothing, exhausted, disheartened and completely in crisis, he had missed their last Thursday morning appointment.</p>
<p>At half past six in the morning on Friday, January 22, when Sam surrendered to that constant state of half-sleep and opened his eyelids on the darkness reigning in his nephew's future room, his fears and needs had only amplified, as if the night had served them as a speaker.</p>
<p>The boy let out a discomforted sigh and ran a hand over his face before getting up from the mattress and going to look out onto the corridor: no sound, no movement. Usually, by this time, Dean and Cas were awake and the apartment itself was starting to come alive again with the soft sound of water running off the shower walls or the sizzle of fried eggs and bacon, while the warm scent of toasted bread pervaded the house.</p>
<p>But that morning, nothing. Everything was silent.</p>
<p>Sam retraced his steps and obeyed the first coherent thought he could extract from the tangle of his synapses: he would go for a run. Perhaps engaging in some physical activity would have helped him overcome his chronic insomnia and, in any case, he needed to be alone to try to put his thoughts in line. After all, perhaps his brother and brother-in-law could have made good use of the same opportunity too.</p>
<p>Without allowing himself to change his mind, Sam shed the old baggy pants he wore as pajamas to put on a pair of cotton tracksuit pants that were in a better condition. Then he replaced the black shirt in which he had spent the night with an anonymous white shirt and a hooded sweatshirt that still bore the Stanford logo on the back. In the zippered pockets he closed his smartphone and headphones, reached the living area and, finding Castiel asleep on the sofa with one arm over his eyes, immediately put on the sneakers his mother had given him at Christmas. Taking care not to wake his brother-in-law, then, he took the exit, closed the door behind him, reached the street, chose the music with which to isolate himself from the world and began to run with headphones in his ears.</p>
<p>But he soon realized that not even Mumford &amp; Sons could silence the whispers that were shaking him inside. The more he tried to get away from everything else concentrating on the rhythm of his breathing and the cadence with which the soles of his feet hit the ground, the more those thoughts turned up the volume, they shouted within the walls of his head.</p>
<p>
  <em>Luc is angry.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Luc is furious.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He hasn't answered me all week.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He will never answer me again.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He will never forgive me.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He has been through some horrible things. Why doesn't he want to tell me about it?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Of course he doesn't want to tell me about it. Why should h</em>
  <em>e</em>
  <em>? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He talked about it with Gabriel. Luc is fond of Gabriel. He trusts him. Christ, he would trust him with his life. He left me alone with him, several times.</em>
</p>
<p>It wasn't something to take for granted, not with Luc as part of the equation. Also, Sam even suspected that Luc hadn't gotten upset with Gabriel for letting Sam in on his past. He had made it clear that it was Sam who had acted wrong, asking Gabriel to tell him about the Bensons. Why all this big-hearted person behavior, all this tolerance for a friend he hadn't even stayed in touch with for a long time? Was it possible that, up to thirteen years before, Luc and Gabriel had shared enough to explain why Luc was still willing to forgive him for everything, even for something he was not willing to forgive Sam for?</p>
<p>
  <em>Sam, Gabriel Hale. A colossal asshole to whom I probably owe my life.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>We were very good friends in high school. We had one of those bonds that I don't think get ever completely broken.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>We've been through a lot together. And by "been through", I mean we survived when we didn't even know if we would have managed to.</em>
</p>
<p>His most urgent thought slipped between his memories, between one gasp and the other of his running, which was now too fast to be passed off as jogging.</p>
<p><em> I need to talk w</em><em>ith </em> <em> someone. </em></p>
<p>But his memories immediately took over once again.</p>
<p>
  <em>How do you know these things?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Just like you knew you'd get a bruise, I guess.</em>
</p>
<p>That last thought, joined with the memory of the grimace on Gabriel's face, caused Sam a pang in the stomach, something more intense than the previous ones. Almost without him realizing it, from that moment every turn of his path helped to align him with the route of bus number seventeen.</p>
<p>In just over an hour and a half of running – calibrated at certain times, frenzied at others – he found himself in front of Gabriel's house. He rang the bell two, three times, but Salisbury Willows 21 stood silent. There was nobody home. Out of breath and drenched in sweat from head to toe, Sam pulled the edges of his sweatshirt tight around him, sat on the front steps and waited with his eyes fixed on the road as the late January steel sky threatened the arrival of yet another snowfall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>In spite of all his efforts, Gabriel had never been able to hide – neither from the world nor from the little punk under consideration – how much he loved his sister. Brilliant and insightful, although adolescence could raise her acidity to barely tolerable levels, Claire was simply irresistible to her older brother.</p>
<p>As much as Gabriel's sarcasm was of a more playful nature while Claire's more somber, the two were very similar in the way they approached the world and this was what had allowed them to continue to be inseparable, despite their sixteen and a half years of age difference, even when Claire had stopped being a lovely little girl with round cheeks and had begun to develop her own personality.</p>
<p>With her, Gabriel had a blast. Of course, that little girl was also able to annoy him to the edge of madness, but in her company it was possible to spend some very pleasant mornings. Especially when those included some free time and a breakfast outside – at Claire's favorite cafe, with Gabriel's favorite croissants. Like that morning.</p>
<p>Claire and her scheduled absence from school were the reason Gabriel had taken a day off from work, got up early and left the house on an empty stomach before eight o’clock. Now, while he was driving back home, where he and Claire would still have had some time to chat before it was time to accompany her to her dermatological check up, Gabriel was stuffed with enough hot croissants that he couldn't help himself: with all that sugar, butter and joy in his body, he had to provoke the girl. Claire deserved it. For two hours she had being doing nothing but babbling without giving him any respite, as well as gorging herself on cappuccino and pain aux raisins.</p>
<p>“In short, from what little you tell me, this new guy you're dating seems friggin’ awesome,” Gabriel commented, shaking his shoulders in a mockingly excited way as he referred to the hottest topic of the moment.</p>
<p>His sister, despite her angel face, blue eyes and soft golden curls that fell over her shoulders and down to her hips, gave him a murderous look from the passenger seat.</p>
<p>“Stop it,” she tried to freeze him, quick.</p>
<p>“What?” Gabriel protested, hiding a good part of his sarcasm behind the smile he was turning towards the clear road. “I have just paid him a compliment. You should be happy.”</p>
<p>“I know what you're trying to do,” Claire hissed.</p>
<p>Gabriel knew very well that if the fifteen-year-old hadn't been clear about the importance of letting him concentrate on driving, at that point a formidable session of wrestling mixed with tickling would have been the minimum disputable punishment.</p>
<p>“I have no idea what you are mumbling about,” he persevered, turning left after the traffic lights.</p>
<p>But Claire had never had anything to envy him in terms of stubbornness.</p>
<p>“You do. You pretend to be obliging, but in reality you are already trying to make me think less of him, to destroy his image.”</p>
<p>“Destroy his image,” Gabriel sang, then snorted a mocking chuckle. “You sound just like a dime novel, sis. Ouch,” he moaned softly when his sister, taking advantage of an area with a very low speed limit, gave him a relentless punch on his arm. Gabriel quickly massaged the affected area before continuing with greater seriousness, eyebrows raised to underline his contempt: “What if my sixth sense, in the presence of which a rookie like you should only bow since it is trained by years and years of experience, invites me not to trust anyone named Brian?”</p>
<p>Claire narrowed her eyelids to give him a deadly look.</p>
<p>“It makes no sense at all!” she exclaimed, outraged, and Gabriel gave her a wary look.</p>
<p>“Honey, it would if you had seen <em>Queer as folk</em>. Trust me,” he instructed her from the top of his fraternal munificence pile.</p>
<p>The only reaction he got from his sister was a vibrant raised eyebrow and her best mocking tone.</p>
<p>“What would that be, another one of your gay porn disguised as a TV series?”</p>
<p>It was Gabriel's turn to pass her from side to side with a murderous look.</p>
<p>“Don’t make me stop and drop you off, young lady. You can go on foot, as far as I'm concerned, if you keep insulting the small-screen masterpieces.”</p>
<p>“We are at your door, genius,” the girl retorted cheerfully, just a couple of seconds before her brother parked his car in front of the fence that divided the street from the small garden of Salisbury Willows 21.</p>
<p>Strengthened by her victory in the dialectical field, the girl opened the door and jumped out of the car before Gabriel was able to decide if he should have some more fun with that question and answer. Claire had already taken a few steps down the driveway and he had opened his door, but he was still trying to remove the key from the ignition – that damn old thing always got stuck – when his sister's hesitant voice called him.</p>
<p>“Um... Gabe?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I'm coming, just a moment,” he muttered, without even raising his head from under the steering wheel. “Don't worry, we have lots of time, we won't be late. When did I ever make you late?”</p>
<p>Now he was rambling on and his sister knew it, but, after rolling her eyes, she couldn't help but insist.</p>
<p>“From first grade onward, for that matter, but that's not what I was referring to.”</p>
<p>“So what is it?” Gabriel snapped, straightening up and finally granting her the full attention of his wide open eyes after taking back the key with a firm tug.</p>
<p>Claire returned his annoyed gaze and crossed her arms, clutching her camouflage coat and getting defensive.</p>
<p>“It looks like a guy fell asleep on your doorstep.”</p>
<p>Gabriel's stomach sank to the tips of his shoes. The boy rushed out of the subcompact car and walked around his sister to be able to take a look at the entrance of his apartment: there, sitting on the last step, with his eyes closed and his head abandoned against the iron grating of the side gate, wearing running shoes, light cotton trousers and a gray hooded sweatshirt, was Sam Winchester.</p>
<p>“Oh, shit,” Gabriel gasped, stunned.</p>
<p>“A dollar for the swear jar,” Claire chirped, repeating a verse that had become famous in the house where she grew up, but Gabriel had stopped paying attention to her.</p>
<p>Without wasting another second, the man closed the car door behind him and ran to catch up with the boy and kneel in front of him. Claire was immediately behind him and stopped there with a frown that was demanding an explanation, but her brother let her stew in her own juice and devoted himself only to the priority of the moment.</p>
<p>“Sam,” he called, placing a hand on the sleeping boy’s cheek, careful not to scare him.</p>
<p>He worried, finding his skin cold under his touch, but it was nothing compared to the fear that gripped his guts when he saw that the call was not a good enough incentive to wake his unexpected guest.</p>
<p>“Hey, Sam,” he repeated then, swallowing.</p>
<p>A moment later he began slapping his cheek paternally, in an increasingly resolute way. He silently started to pray that he wouldn’t have to go as far as checking his pulse.</p>
<p>“Come on, Sam, wake up. Sam!”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. How to cure insomnia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Finally, a slightly more energetic slap startled Sam, who sat up abruptly, as if he had just been pierced by an electric shock. An instant later, however, he tightened his eyelids and took a hand to his temple, as if suffering from a powerful pang of headache.</p>
<p>“G-Gabe,” he mumbled when he was able to open his eyes again and to outline the contours of the figure that had crouched in front of him. “Where... what... oh my God, I’m so sorry.”</p>
<p>Realizing the situation, he tried to cling to the side grate with his closest hand to stand up, but his sleeping muscles combined with the effects of the cold weather made him stumble and Gabriel had to intervene so that Sam did not fall with his butt on the steps again.</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, hey. Easy, cowboy. How is it that you are always in such a hurry?” Gabriel teased him with an apprehensive smile, continuing to hold his arm even when Sam was finally in a standing position. Then, observing him while the boy looked around with a dazed expression, he studied his face: “How long have you been out here, exactly?”</p>
<p>“I… I don't know,” Sam stammered, shivering at the first gust of wind. “Since eight a.m., maybe? Eight thirty?”</p>
<p>Gabriel pursed his lips in an expression that would have made someone laugh, if he hadn't also appeared so worried. It was half past ten in the morning and the temperature was ideal for snow.</p>
<p>“And where is your coat? You surely didn’t come here dressed like that, did you?” Gabriel went on with a raised eyebrow, while he handed the house key to Claire and motioned for her to open the door.</p>
<p>Sam didn't seem able to find any peace, he just kept moving and looking for handholds that would have kept him standing, and Gabriel didn't feel like letting him go just yet. To be honest, to Gabriel it didn’t look like Sam’s mental faculties were in the best of shapes either, he was so agitated. Or maybe the oldest just hadn't gotten used to that boy’s shame levels yet.</p>
<p>“I-I went out to go for a run and th-then I... I ended up here,” Sam justified himself, uncomfortable in his own icy skin. “I wanted... I th-thought we could talk a little bit.”</p>
<p>Moved to pity by the increasingly evident chills that were taking control of the boy’s body and by his eyes, which at that moment looked exactly like the ones of a puppy who had been abandoned on the side of the road, Gabriel rubbed Sam’s arms with his hands in an attempt to grant him some warmth while his sister tried all the keys in the bunch with an obvious doom.</p>
<p>“Of course we can talk,” he tried to reassure him mildly. “But when you realized that I wasn't here, you should have called or texted me and waited for me somewhere warm. A bar or something. God, you're frozen”, he commented, intensifying the rubbing even though Sam's cheeks were already colored with embarrassment.</p>
<p>“I don’t… I don’t have your number,” the youngest boy stuttered, looking down while he let Gabriel do his best to tame his chills. “S-sorry.”</p>
<p>Gabriel fell silent and called himself an idiot in his head. He hadn’t given Sam his phone number, really? How could he have been so imbecile?</p>
<p>“Don’t apologize,” he then begged Sam with a regretful sigh, while his sister finally managed to make the lock click with the right key. “You are the one in this state, <em>I</em> am sorry. Come on, let's go inside. We need to warm you up.”</p>
<p>When Sam tripped on the threshold, Gabriel's arm ran around his shoulders to support him. The oldest of the two men had just decided that he would not have let him go until he was sure Sam would not fall with his face down, when Claire stepped in front of them after diligently closing the front door behind their slow steps, leaving the freezing cold outside. Her curious gaze, complete with a sly smile, fixed on Sam.</p>
<p>“Hello,” the girl began with a gentleness that hadn't be able to dupe her brother for years now.</p>
<p>Sam, while trusting Gabriel's arm, leaned against the wall for more support.</p>
<p>“Um, hello.”</p>
<p>“Sam, this is Claire,” Gabriel forced himself to introduce the two, knowing that looking for other ways to get Claire out of the way would only have ended up consuming useful time. “My sister.”</p>
<p>“Oh. N-nice to meet you.”</p>
<p>Sam's astonished expression – the usual one in which all those who could notice the vast age difference between the two Hale siblings performed – was interrupted by the readiness with which the fifteen-year-old raised a hand in greeting, without stopping smiling like a huntress who has cornered her prey.</p>
<p>“My pleasure. Is there any chance you are my brother's new beau?” she asked, sweeter than honey.</p>
<p>“Claire,” Gabriel admonished her through gritted teeth, giving her a warning look that left very little to her imagination.</p>
<p>She just shrugged, still wearing her most innocent face.</p>
<p>“It would explain the fact that his head is more in the clouds than usual lately.”</p>
<p>Sam met Gabriel's eyes for a moment, as if asking for help, then coughed nervously.</p>
<p>“Um, no, I’m not...”</p>
<p>“Claire, leave him alone,” the landlord intervened at that point, moving slowly but firmly to accompany Sam at the base of the stairs leading to the upper floor. “The last thing he needs right now is your chatter, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>The girl widened her eyes at that intrusion – in such a way that pointed out to Sam a couple of similarities between Claire and her brother -, then she snorted loudly, made a bored face and kicked the air next to her.</p>
<p>“Someone is in a bad mood today. You sure you’re not on your period?”</p>
<p>Gabriel glared at her in disbelief.</p>
<p>“What’s going on with you? Could you scrape together a more cooperative attitude, please? You're not five anymore, as far as I know.”</p>
<p>“All right, all right,” she blew, spreading her arms before dropping them on her hips, which were covered with light jeans fabric and a long red sweater that brought out her flowing locks of blonde hair. As she strolled through the living room, she shook off her camouflage jacket and left it on one of the adjoining sofas. “Can I make myself some more fresh-squeezed orange juice, at least? I'm hungry again.”</p>
<p>“You can make yourself a whole jug of that, oranges are on the counter. And there are some homemade cookies on the shelf next to the fridge, knock yourself out,” Gabriel muttered.</p>
<p>Even when she seemed to give her best to annoy him, he couldn't help but make sure his sister had everything she could need.</p>
<p>That thoughtfulness seemed to be enough to appease Claire's evil spirits. She turned away from them and hopped to the kitchen. Gabriel sighed, exasperated and relieved at the same time, and gave Sam a squeeze on the shoulder to encourage him to begin tackling the climb. One step at a time, calmly, but he absolutely had to remedy the cold that the boy continued to emanate despite the heating had been fixed and the temperature in the house was close to sixty-eight degrees.</p>
<p>“Come on, Sam,” he urged, trying to distract him from the shivers that were making his teeth chatter. “First, I'd say you need a shower. Long and hot, what do you say?”</p>
<p>He was aware of his tone, he knew that he was talking to him like he would have done to a child who needs to be persuaded to take a bath, but he couldn't help it. Sam seemed so weak that Gabriel's whole being kept screaming at him to take care of him. Furthermore, the fact that the boy was not putting up any resistance was a sufficient indication of his condition.</p>
<p>When, faced with the proposal of a hot shower, Sam just gave his best attempt at a smile and nodded, Gabriel began to pray that he would not get pneumonia, and not only for how Dr. Novak would have reacted to such news.</p>
<p>Gabriel walked Sam into the bathroom and made him sit on the wooden stool he kept by the window. After getting him to promise that he wouldn't try to walk around alone, he went to get him a freshly washed bathrobe and some clean clothes that should have been fine for his size. When he placed the whole pile by the window, Sam gave him a questioning look.</p>
<p>“You're lucky I collaborate with big boys too, at the theater. And that some of them often forget clothes in the locker room. Don't worry, they are washed and ironed,” he assured him, keeping his smile on, before pointing at the shower stall. “Can you handle this on your own?”</p>
<p>“W-what? Oh, yes. Y-yeah, sure,” Sam nodded, blushing in that lovely way again.</p>
<p>Gabriel gave him a friendly, devoid of ulterior motives wink, to reassure him.</p>
<p>“Take your time. If you need something, pull that rope, it's attached to a bell in the kitchen. I'm going downstairs to tame the teenage beast.”</p>
<p>Gabriel had just turned and was about to leave when Sam's soft voice resurfaced.</p>
<p>“Gabe?”</p>
<p>Gabriel turned and smiled again at that boy who, although he was broken and every shadow in his eyes was a harsh testimony of it, that day had looked for him. He had gone out for a jog and ran up to his front door. Not to mention the part where he had risked frostbite, waiting for him while soaked in sweat under that late January merciless sky. If they ever got closer, Gabriel promised to himself he would have given Sam a little speech about priorities. He couldn't really take another scare like that.</p>
<p>“Yup?”</p>
<p>“T-thanks,” Sam bumbled, numb. “I don't know why you're so nice to me, but thank you nonetheless.”</p>
<p>Gabriel barely accentuated his smile before waving his hand.</p>
<p>“Don't even mention it. It's a pleasure to have you here.”</p>
<p>After closing the bathroom door behind his back, Gabriel paused for a moment at the top of the stairs, leaning against the handrail, and waited to hear the water flowing into the shower to allow himself a sigh.</p>
<p>He hadn't foreseen that turn of events. From the moment he had got Dr. Novak's call the previous evening, from the moment he had hung up, he had been thinking about a hundred different possible new plans that maybe could have allowed him to get to Sam, to have another try with him before he decided to go back into Luc's arms, this time for real and without looking back. What he hadn't taken into account, however, was that Sam could have been the one looking for him.</p>
<p>Of course, it could have been a good sign and, if played well, a good advantage in the race towards the goal. Maybe that was why Gabriel was so nervous. The time had come, the long-awaited and feared time when he would have had to risk everything, because there was no more room for maneuver. What would have happened if Gabriel had ruined everything? The man ran his fingers through his hair, letting them get stuck in there for a moment while he thought.</p>
<p>The soft noises around him got the better of him. A few steps away from him, Sam must have undressed and got under the hot water jet and...</p>
<p><em>This is not the time, Hale!</em> Gabriel scolded himself with a jerk of his head, struggling to stay lucid.</p>
<p>From downstairs, a clink of glasses. Certainly Claire had taken him by his word when he had told her to get a whole jug of juice. That girl seemed to burn energy like a marathon runner simply by existing.</p>
<p><em>You are not upset just because you are afraid of ruining everything with Sam</em>, at that point a voice in his head surprised him, imposing itself in the silence. <em>You know why you are afraid, actually. You'</em> <em>re frightened out of your wits</em> <em> because Sam came to talk. And you know what i</em><em>t</em> <em> means, right? The time has come to </em> <em>let the cat out of the bag.</em></p>
<p>That chanting within the walls of his skull made him sick. Refusing to confirm his own conscience’s hypothesis, Gabriel trotted downstairs to be distracted by his little sister's sarcasm.</p>
<p>Claire did not disappoint him. When her older brother joined her in the kitchen, she was sitting on one of the counter stools and nibbling at those chocolate cookies, but she gave him a knowing smile as soon as she spotted him.</p>
<p>“Is he already taking a shower, without you two sleeping together first? So he's not some residue of a Saturday night fling! Or should I assume you're extraordinarily quick between the sheets, big brother?” she teased him, raising and lowering her eyebrows several times to provoke him.</p>
<p>Gabriel ignored the sexual allusion, but made a mental note to find a moment to discuss with the girl – and maybe even her parents – how much her feeling at ease with the subject was inappropriately precocious. Anyway, he now had more urgent business to attend to.</p>
<p>“Not a word about all this with Mom,” he immediately got to warning her, pointing a finger at her.</p>
<p>Actually, although uttered in his best dark and severe tone, it was a prayer. And Claire, of course, was more than aware of that. Just to confirm that, she grinned, her clear eyes already shining with expectation.</p>
<p>“Uh, the magic words,” she hummed, beaming.</p>
<p>Gabriel leaned against the counter with one hand, used the other to snatch a cookie from the old tin box he used to keep his baking creations crunchy and gave her a dirty look that didn't match the fact that he was nibbling at a cocoa butter cookie.</p>
<p>“I'm not kidding, Claire,” he grumbled with his mouth full, thus ending up losing another good slice of authority. “Sam… it’s a delicate matter.”</p>
<p>The fifteen-year-old's face became a mask of disbelief and neither of them ever knew how the girl refrained from bursting out laughing.</p>
<p>“Oh, I can imagine,” she kept teasing him instead. “And I bet his name wasn't in <em>Mean as a fork</em>.”</p>
<p>“<em>Queer as folk</em>, you ignorant,” Gabriel retorted, taking advantage of their mother's absence to forget that their ages designated him as the adult of the situation.</p>
<p>Feeling the victory already in her pocket, Claire shrugged with an air of superiority.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter. You know well what the use of those words entails.”</p>
<p>Gabriel sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation, but soon after he came to terms with what Claire was implying.</p>
<p>“All right, little bully. If you will do me the favor not to report any of this to our sweet, sweet mother, preventing her from poking her curious nose into business that does not concern her, I... I will owe you a fat one,” he promised reluctantly, comforting himself with another cookie.</p>
<p>“A huge one,” Claire specified.</p>
<p>If she had insisted a little longer, Gabriel's impatient gaze would have pierced the ceiling.</p>
<p>“Yes, okay, okay, a gigantic one. Happy now?”</p>
<p>With a satisfied smile that went from one of her ears to the other, Claire nodded.</p>
<p>“Thrilled,” she chuckled gloating, wiping her hands on her brother's jeans to get rid of crumbs before sweeping past him to go and retrieve her overcoat. While she put it on nimbly, she turned back to the counter where Gabriel was enjoying an unexpected second breakfast and winked at him: “Chill, old man. My lips are sealed.”</p>
<p>The thirty-one-year-old couldn't help but smile at the spitting copy of his own malice. Jesus Christ, he loved that little girl.</p>
<p>Without adding anything else, as indeed happened often between them, the two brothers walked towards the door, recognizing the moment to say goodbye without feeling the need for someone to announce it out loud. Taking advantage of her distraction, Gabriel pulled his sister into a hug and planted a kiss on her head before she could protest and wriggle away.</p>
<p>“Behave yourself, lion cub.”</p>
<p>She made a face for both the gesture of affection and her nickname, then she enjoyed one last dig at him with a raised eyebrow: “Like you taught me?”</p>
<p>“I would never expect such a level of perfection from a student, but if you really want to hurt your self-esteem and give it a try, I won’t stop you,” Gabriel laughed when she gave him another playful punch on his arm, then opened the door. “Can you make it to the clinic alone?”</p>
<p>“Sure. No problem,” Claire agreed quietly.</p>
<p>“I would have preferred to come with you as promised,” Gabriel added, raising an arm to scratch the back of his neck before glancing apprehensively at the internal stairs leading to the first floor. “But...”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, I understand. Sam, Sam, Sam,” his sister bugged him a little more, but only enough to make him forget that moment of uncertainty. Then she too gave in to a cautious smile, as if she didn't quite know where the limit was drawn yet: “Listen, is he... is he going to be fine?”</p>
<p>Touched, Gabriel ruffled the mass of her blond hair: “I will make sure of it.”</p>
<p>“All right. Keep me updated, then,” she nodded, going out on the landing with her nose up.</p>
<p>Gabriel imitated her and immediately understood why she was so interested: it had started snowing. His sister took a tiny umbrella out of one of the huge pockets of her military-like jacket and she clicked it open before turning to him to annoy him one last time.</p>
<p>“He's quite a guy, big brother. A little out of your league, but incredibly, against all odds, he seems to like you. Try to measure up.”</p>
<p>Gabriel mumbled something between his teeth and tried to reach to flick her ear, but he pretended to waste too much time and Claire ran away laughing. From the threshold of his apartment, Gabriel watched her walk away under her green umbrella, stop a couple of times to turn her face to the sky and eat a snowflake or two and, finally, disappear around the corner. Only then did he take a deep breath. If only Claire had known her words weren't all that different from her brother's thoughts since he had taken charge of Sam Winchester's frail situation.</p>
<p><em>Try to b</em><em>e worthy</em><em>. Try not to s</em><em>crew</em> <em> everything </em> <em>up</em>, he kept repeating himself.</p>
<p>And that day, with Sam picked up from the street in a miserable state, more than ever.</p>
<p>When Gabriel returned into the house, it took him almost a minute to realize that something was missing compared to a moment before. Then he got it: he could no longer hear the jet of water from the shower crashing against the floor – that is, the ceiling above his head.</p>
<p>He gave Sam a few more minutes, then he headed upstairs.</p>
<p>The bathroom was empty and the window had been opened to disperse the steam. Gabriel walked past it and, finding his bedroom door ajar, he peered inside. A comforted smile crept across his lips as he spotted Sam curled up in a fetal position on the right side of the mattress, wearing the secondhand clothes he had gotten him – nothing more than a pair of soft pants and a sweatshirt – with his eyes closed and his facial features finally relaxed, abandoned to a well deserved sleep.</p>
<p>Gabriel ventured into the room on tiptoe. Then, still without making a sound, he pulled a couple of blankets out of the closet and spread one over the boy's body. No reaction.</p>
<p><em>A </em> <em>freight train wouldn’t wake him up</em>, Gabriel thought, setting the second blanket at Sam's feet.</p>
<p>And even if he lingered a little longer to observe the face that had charmed him since their first meeting, to investigate every line and every curve, to listen to his quiet breathing and to fight against the desire to move a tuft of his hair away from his closed eyelids, he didn’t feel neither sorry nor at fault. Nobody was watching him.</p>
<p>No one could see him, while he realized he felt more than a mere physical attraction for that lost boy. No one would ever have known that <em>that</em> was the exact moment when Gabriel Hale surrendered to the evidence: he carried a blinding torch for Sam Winchester.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know it often doesn’t look like it, but I love it when I can close a chapter with a little sweetness. 😏🍭</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. In someone else's bed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>When Sam woke up, the soft winter light that had accompanied his waiting on the doorstep a few hours earlier wasn’t filtering through the white curtains of the bedroom anymore. It was evening. It was dark and he had just woken up in Gabriel Hale's bed when Luc was nowhere near. If Sam hadn't felt like someone had replaced his head with a ten-pound bag of sand, he would have jumped up in surprise. But, too warm and occasionally shivering as he found himself to be, he just lifted his head slightly to look around through his half-closed eyelids in the dim light.</p>
<p>Someone – Gabriel, no doubt – had spread a grass-colored crochet blanket over his body and left another neatly folded one at the end of the bed, just in case. Going away, he had pulled the door without closing it. Noticing that gesture warmed Sam’s heart, because it reminded him how his mother used to do the same when he and Dean were children, so that the noises outside their bedroom would not disturb them but her children would have still felt free to call or go look for her at any time.</p>
<p>With a tremendous effort, Sam sat up, placed his feet on the floor and stood there for a few seconds. Thank God he had put some clothes on before he collapsed, or facing Gabriel now would have been even more embarrassing than he already anticipated.</p>
<p>Sam got up cautiously and took a few steps to the window, just to check if he could trust his legs. Although those hours of sleep had been a godsend, he still felt sluggish, as if at the beginning of a flu.</p>
<p><em>Surely s</em><em>taying</em> <em> out for two hours in just a sweatshirt and covered in sweat in this cold did not do you much good, genius</em>, his conscience scolded him.</p>
<p>And it could have been worse, Sam realized as he pulled back a curtain to take a look outside: it was snowing heavily. Roofs, gardens and streets were already covered in a soft white mantle that promised to increase over the night, to the delight of children and the misfortune of drivers. If nothing else, it was Friday, but Sam wondered how he would have got home. Only after formulating that thought did he realize that once again he was trying to distract himself from the most pressing problem.</p>
<p>What was he doing there? Why had he gone to Gabriel – damn it, why had he risked pneumonia to wait for him at the front door? The disconnected arguments that had haunted his morning run flooded his mind without resolving anything. Sam didn't know what he wanted. Or maybe he didn't know how to recognize it. What was clear to him was that he couldn't hang in that room forever, waiting for the situation he had created to resolve itself.</p>
<p><em>Grow a pair, sissy</em>, Dean's voice urged inside his head.</p>
<p>And as much as his older brother annoyed him every time he sported that attitude, Sam took up his courage. He took a deep breath, walked to the bedroom door and tried to appear as stable as possible as he reached the lower floor one step at a time, suppressing the chills he felt consuming him to his bones.</p>
<p>He had gone halfway down the staircase, holding on to the handrail, when he finally heard the music. Serene notes accompanied his last steps towards the ground floor and Sam stopped at the edge of the modest open space that embraced the living room and the kitchen, observing.</p>
<p>Despite any information that came to him from his senses was muffled by his worsening state, the boy immediately registered Gabriel's presence behind the kitchen counter. He had the same simple but tidy look of that morning, with the hems of his dark shirt pulled off and falling down on his pants-covered hips and his light hair combed back. He had his back to Sam, busy around cutting boards and stoves under the warm light of the chandelier, and he had begun humming along with the melody that was being transmitted by the frequencies of the radio.</p>
<p>“Well, I was young and naive. Said, I appreciate you comin 'round. But I got a house made of brick here. Ain't no wind gonna bring it down.”</p>
<p>Parting and licking his lips as he listened to him, Sam thought he had a beautiful voice. Low, warm and vibrant like the ones the boy remembered coming from some of his father's old vinyls, the ones no one knew what happened to after the old family home was emptied and given to people with less memories. One of those voices that should have been heard on summer nights, on the porch of a country house, accompanied by an acoustic guitar and a few bottles of beer. Sam found himself wondering if Gabe had ever done it, singing for a summer love while the sultry July air turned pleasantly warm and the fireflies rose from the meadows, creating the perfect frame for that voice and its mature, aware timbre. Maybe even too mature for a thirty-one year old man.</p>
<p>“Well, I loved him like a fairy tale, I lost him like a dream. Pull up on the roadside there and I'll tell you what I mean. There are things in life you can't control and things you can’t unsee. But if you find real love, don't ever let him leave. Don't ever let him leave. Don’t you ever let him leave.”</p>
<p>Sam didn't notice that the song was over. At one point he had looked down at a corner of one of the sofas, overwhelmed by his thoughts, and he didn't even notice that he had made a floorboard creak by moving his leg to the side. Perhaps that was why he realized he had Gabriel's eyes on him only when the man spoke, dragging him out of his loneliness.</p>
<p>“Hello there. I didn’t hear you coming downstairs. How are you feeling?”</p>
<p>Sam winced, but then gave him an embarrassed half smile, running a hand through his hair before pulling it to the back of his neck.</p>
<p>“I fell asleep,” was all he could find to say, but he stopped worrying about his own stupidity as soon as he saw Gabriel's thin lips curl into a sincere smile.</p>
<p>“I realized. I must have come up at least three times in these nine hours to make sure you were still breathing. I was starting to worry a little, I'll admit.”</p>
<p>Sam was taking a few steps towards the kitchen when that realization hit him right in the forehead.</p>
<p>“Nine hours?” he repeated, astonished. “Oh shoot, I didn't think I…”</p>
<p>“Hey,” Gabe called, making sure he had Sam's eyes in his before shaking his head reassuringly. “If you're worried about falling asleep on my bed, don't even start. You didn’t create any problems for me, I had already planned to enjoy my day in the kitchen, preparing some food. Okay?”</p>
<p>Following his nod, Sam considered all the goodness that Gabriel had cooked during the afternoon. On the far corner of the counter, a dozen glass containers were stacked in order and they seemed to contain a little bit of everything, from rainbow pasta with eggplant sauce to meatballs and from spelt salad to fried courgettes. Certainly Gabriel had not spared himself and, judging by his relaxed expression, he had really wanted nothing more for his Friday afternoon.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Sam replied then, smiling in return. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>Gabriel nodded satisfied, glancing proudly at the results of his work.</p>
<p>“And in case you're wondering, the answer is yes: I'm a serial accumulator of ready meals,” he admitted. “But I prefer to prepare them myself, starting from scratch, and enjoy them during the week.”</p>
<p>Sam basked in his pleasant tone and pushed his lower lip out in approval as he leaned on one of the kitchen stools with his forearms to get a better look at those future lunches and dinners.</p>
<p>“I don't think there's anything to blame you for. Quite the opposite.”</p>
<p>Gabriel did a curtsy and that made Sam giggle, also making him feel a few pounds lighter.</p>
<p>“Did you sleep well, at least?” Gabriel continued, lifting the lid of the last pot left on the fire to stir the content with a wooden ladle. “Were you able to rest? You looked like you needed it badly.”</p>
<p>Sam moistened his lips again, his gaze fixed on the smoke emanating from the open pot. A delicious scent of grains, veggies and curry – something that in Sam's mind translated as pure ambrosia – had just pounced on his nostrils, forcing him to remember how long since he had last put something into his stomach.</p>
<p>“Yes, thank you, it's... I couldn't sleep well for a few nights in a row. I guess I made up for some of that lost sleep.”</p>
<p>Gabriel added a pinch of salt to the recipe and briefly turned back to him.</p>
<p>“I'm glad to hear that.”</p>
<p>Sam hesitated, expecting a sequel that didn't come. Gabriel did not ask any uncomfortable questions about the reasons behind his insomnia. All he did was persevere in supporting him with that steadfast smile of his.</p>
<p>“Excuse me, so what time is it?” Sam asked after a few more turns of the ladle.</p>
<p>He wasted no time looking around, by then he knew that there were no wall clocks in Gabriel's house. It was not for nothing that the landlord had to take his cell phone out of his back pocket to answer him.</p>
<p>“Hm, some minutes after seven. Oh,” he added after putting away the smartphone, snapping his fingers, “when I realized that you wouldn’t wake up for lunch, I thought I should call the university library headquarters to warn them that you would not have been able to go to work today. I talked with a Donna. She said she would take care of giving you the day off. I hope I did the right thing.”</p>
<p>For a moment Sam considered the possibility of asking him if by chance he hadn't heard Luc too, but it was a matter of moments before that idea faded from his mind. Instead, he nodded yes, feeling more and more spoiled by all those precautions.</p>
<p>“You've done too much. Thank you. Again,” he ended with an embarrassed grimace.</p>
<p>Gabriel chuckled and shook his head, then turned back to him.</p>
<p>“I want to make you a proposal, Sam,” he announced with only superficial seriousness, pointing the wooden spoon in the boy’s direction as if it were a sword capable of bestowing a knighthood. “If you stop thanking me, I'll invite you to dinner.”</p>
<p>Sam snorted back in a chuckle, still partially uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“It seems to me that you’re the only one losing something in this agreement.”</p>
<p>“On the contrary,” Gabriel contradicted him quietly. “If it will stop you from feeling like a puffer fish on a bed of nails, I'll be more than satisfied.”</p>
<p>This time Sam laughed with less inhibition, forgetting for a moment the chills, dizziness and pains in his temples.<br/>“A puffer fish on a bed of nails? Is that the impression I’m giving you?”</p>
<p>“Precisely,” Gabriel agreed with too much conviction, holding his mask like a pro while he pretended that Sam's rare laughter hadn't just sent butterflies flying into his stomach.</p>
<p>“I'd like to stop here for a little while,” the youngest admitted then, melting a bit. “But I should call home to warn them. As much as this sentence makes me sound like a teenager.”</p>
<p>At that exit, Gabriel did not refrain from winking at him.</p>
<p>“That contrite face was already making you look like a teenager, don’t worry. That is why Claire was so impressed with you. But don't worry, I'll keep her at bay. You are both taken, after all. She already has a boyfriend with an impractical name and you have your flirt with Momo to look after.”</p>
<p>Just then, Sam felt something soft rubbing against his shin.</p>
<p>“True,” he remembered, bending over just to be able to cuddle the cat without his temporary lack of balance betraying him. “Hello, kitty. Tell the truth, did you smell this celestial aroma too and woke up? What do you say?”</p>
<p>Gabriel grinned again, then left the pot alone and walked to the opposite side of the counter to enjoy the sight of Sam earning Momo's satisfied purr.</p>
<p>“Your phone was dying, so I plugged it in,” he said once Momo had opted for a nap on one of the sofas and Sam had straightened up. “It's there, on the coffee table.”</p>
<p>Barely refraining from thanking him for the umpteenth time, Sam just nodded appreciatively and reached for his smartphone. Next to it, he also found his headphones – Gabriel must have recovered both of them from the sweatshirt he had left on the bathroom floor, and this was just one more reason to be grateful to him –, while underneath there was a handwritten note.</p>
<p><em>Not that I d</em><em>on’t like</em> <em> finding a handsome guy at my door when I get home… </em> <em>but </em> <em>for </em> <em>next time, this is my number.</em></p>
<p>Sam smiled, reading first those words and then the numbers that followed them, and slipped Gabriel's note into his pocket only after registering the new number among into his cell phone memory – and completely ignoring the absence of messages from Luc.</p>
<p>“Do you mind if I stay here while I make that phone call?” he then asked.</p>
<p>He didn't want to tell Gabriel and make him worry, but he was afraid that his legs wouldn't have made it through another climb without giving in. Sam felt incredibly weak, and while Gabriel's company worked wonders for his mood, his body didn't seem in a position to be positively affected.</p>
<p>“Are you asking the neighborhood gossip if he can listen to your phone call?” Gabriel joked, raising an eyebrow.</p>
<p>Sam smiled and shrugged.</p>
<p>“It won't be anything special. You can stay and listen, really.”</p>
<p>Gabriel raised his hands in the air beside his head.</p>
<p>“Make yourself at home. I will be discreet. I'll stay here humming songs and labeling these guys,” he decided, arming himself with sticky notes and a pen from a nearby drawer before reaching the corner where he had temporarily stored the tepid supplies.</p>
<p>Sam watched him for a few more seconds, until the lyrics of <em>Seventy-four, seventy-five</em> by The Connells replaced the song’s opening notes and Gabriel began to sing in a low voice, but without the slightest hesitation. Then the twenty-six-year-old searched his phone contacts to pick the number he was interested in, got his smartphone close to his ear and slowly reached the window while he waited for his brother to answer.</p>
<p>Just pulling the curtains aside, he saw that the snow was still falling thick and compact, helped by the colder temperatures of the darkness, and he wondered if Gabriel's invitation to dinner included an exhortation to stop for the night. If he knew him at least a little, he would have wagered that the answer was yes. If he had been more attentive to his own reflections, at that moment Sam would have wondered why, at the idea of spending the night at another man's house, the thought of Luc had not even crossed his mind.</p>
<p>“<em>Hello?</em>” the voice on the phone began at that moment.</p>
<p>“Dean, hey. It's me,” Sam replied, close enough to the window pane to mist it with his breath.</p>
<p>“<em>Sammy, are you all right?</em>”</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m fine,” Sam confirmed, trying to deduce his brother's degree of concern from his tone of voice. In reality, Dean had no reason to be upset: by that time on Friday, Sam should still have been at the library. If he had to get anxious, it would only happen at that moment. “Listen, I'm not... I didn't go to work today.”</p>
<p>“<em>What? Why?</em>” And after a short pause: “<em>Where are you now?</em>”</p>
<p>“At Gabriel's place. I have been since this morning,” the youngest brother explained, trying to keep a calm and casual tone of voice.</p>
<p>He knew that he would have had to offer a more articulate explanation if he wanted to reassure his brother and thought quickly to give birth to something that sounded less cheesy than “I wanted to see him”. Not to mention that Gabriel could hear him and Sam didn't need any more incitement to hide his face under a pillow in shame.</p>
<p>Eventually, running out of time, he had to settle.</p>
<p>“I needed to talk with him and I came here, but then I ended up falling asleep. I was tired and... well, I woke up now and I was thinking of staying here for dinner. He invited me.”</p>
<p>Dean was silent for a couple of seconds as Sam stared at the snowflakes twinkling under the street lights. He wasn’t actually seeing them.</p>
<p>“<em>You can do as you like, Sam, you're an adult. But are you sure you feel good? You have a slightly strange voice.</em>”</p>
<p>Although surprised by the absence of more questions, Sam coughed and recovered quickly, even though he had to put two fingers to his eyes because his vision had suddenly become blurry.</p>
<p>“I must have caught a little cold,” he muttered, rubbing his eyelids. “But I’m okay, really. Maybe it could also be useful for you and Cas, if I leave you two alone for a while. I noticed that…”</p>
<p>“<em>What?</em>”</p>
<p>This time Dean had sprinted like an annoyed puma and Sam proceeded cautiously, leaning one hand on the window sill and letting his forehead rest on his arm. His legs had begun shaking slightly, threatening him to cede, but the boy blamed some low blood sugar, or perhaps his blood pressure, and quickly dismissed the matter. Perhaps it would be appropriate to ask Gabe for something as an appetizer, after hanging up, or he would risk fainting before dinner was ready.</p>
<p>“Last night it looked like you were avoiding him, that's all,” he confided to his brother, carefully weighing each word. “And this morning I found him sleeping in the living room. I wondered if by chance something had happened between you t-…”</p>
<p>Dean didn't even wait for him to complete the sentence. Much less staid than he had been at the beginning of the phone call, he hurled himself at him like a tsunami over a microphone.</p>
<p>“<em>Yes, well, it's not any of your damn business, don't you think? Look, have a nice dinner, take care of yourself. See you.</em>”</p>
<p>“Come on, Dean, wait…”</p>
<p>His brother hung up on him. Sam had just enough time to hear the beep announcing the end of the call, because immediately after an intense wave of dizziness dropped a veil in front of his eyes. He fainted for a few seconds, but it was enough for him to collapse to his knees and on the floor, while someone, a thousand miles away, shouted out his name.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gabriel is singing Dick Jr. &amp; the Volunteers' "Cautionary Fairytale" - because yes, I'm obsessed with that album and Richard's voice. To give the song a coherent meaning in the context, though, I made Gabriel replace all "her"s with "him"s.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. All thanks to the snow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>“Sam!” Gabriel repeated, now much closer, and the boy opened his eyelids at the exact moment when the host knelt beside him and made sure that he had not hit his head more seriously than it seemed at first sight. “Holy shit... Sam, can you hear me? Say something.”</p>
<p>“Poughkeepsie,” Sam mumbled obediently.</p>
<p>He opened and closed his eyes a couple more times, until Gabriel's face took on well-defined contours. He was satisfied when he noticed Gabriel’s forehead wrinkle. God, he was so close to him. Sam found that woody notes perfume of him – or maybe, on second thought, could it be a deodorant? - within his nostrils range again and he inhaled it until he got his lungs full.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Poughkeepsie,” Sam whispered again, swallowing. “County seat of Duchess County, state of New York. My brother and I used it as a password when we were children, or to warn the other one that Dad was coming, so it was better to forget about the plan of the moment. Like, I don’t know... setting fire to Dean's science project. That volcano sucked, anyway.”</p>
<p>“Okay, you’re definitely chattier than usual,” Gabriel considered, unsure whether to allow himself to be comforted or worried by the young man's sudden loquacity. His next move was to place the back of his hand on Sam’s forehead, and then his eyes widened: “Good God, you’re burning up. Didn't you realize it?”</p>
<p>Partly out of distraction and partly in order not to be reproached for having underestimated the symptoms that haunted him since waking up, Sam easily dodged the question.</p>
<p>“I’m not... I’m not feeling very well,” he muttered.</p>
<p>“No doubt about that, I could cook some eggs up here,” Gabriel commented, now bending down and maneuvering until he managed to slip one arm around Sam's shoulders. “Come on, stand up. I'll walk you to the sofa. Just a little effort. Easy… easy. There you go.”</p>
<p>In some way or another, with Gabriel’s help, Sam managed to get back on his feet and beat the dizziness just enough to land on the sofa – the one where Gabriel usually sat, as the other one, <em>his</em>, was taken. Momo had curled up peacefully in the middle of it. As soon as Gabriel helped him lie down, Sam settled on his side with a groan, so that he was looking towards the center of the living room. He was aching all over.</p>
<p>“I-I need to call Dean,” he moaned as he tried to suppress a shiver, noticing the sweat beading on his forehead only when Gabriel placed a cushion under his cheek. “I-I have to ask him to come and get me. I d-don't want to cause you any more trouble.”</p>
<p>“You’re not causing me any trouble, Sam, at all,” promised Gabriel, who was still swallowing the anguish that had gripped his stomach an instant earlier, when out of the corner of his eye he had seen the boy suddenly fall to the ground. But he was still trying to stay calm and use his most soothing tone. “Also, there’s a snowstorm going on outside. It’s not the right moment to ask anyone, let alone your brother, to go out and drive, since there’s no urgent need for that. Wait here, okay?” he exhorted after spreading on him the only blanket he found nearby, even though it was definitely too light for the circumstances. “I’ll be right back.”</p>
<p>He kept his word. It seemed to Sam that he had the chance to fill and empty his lungs just three or four times before Gabriel was back with a glass of water that was placed on the coffee table, a wet and cool cloth that he put on Sam's hot forehead and a thermometer which Gabriel turned on after sitting down on a free corner of the sofa, taking the time to check that the tool still worked.</p>
<p>“Forgive me if I dare,” he said then, a moment before sliding the hand holding the thermometer into the neck of the sweatshirt Sam was wearing.</p>
<p>The thirty-one-year-old proved quick to place the instrument under the other man’s armpit, but not enough to prevent Sam from feeling a rush of blood warm his face and color his cheeks. He could only hope that the pallor of his weakness was stronger than his tendency to blush from the thoughtful and respectful touch of those fingers on his skin.</p>
<p>“Done. Now try not to move until it beeps, all right?” Gabriel said in a low voice, as if he was afraid of disturbing him.</p>
<p>Sam found himself wondering if that was the tone he used to soothe his younger sister too when she was sick, and he was grateful to see one of Gabriel's shrewd smiles reappear soon.</p>
<p>“Good thing you have a sportsman’s physique, uh?”</p>
<p>Worn out, Sam raised his eyebrows and hinted a smile in return: “Yeah.”</p>
<p>“You might consider signing up for a marathon. After recovering from pneumonia, of course.”</p>
<p>Recognizing a watered-down version of lecture behind his benevolent tone, Sam glanced at him sideways.</p>
<p>“Now you sound just like my brother.”</p>
<p>“Sorry. Comes with the job.”</p>
<p>“Don't you work in a fruit and vegetable shop?”</p>
<p>“Only for leisure. My primary profession is that of an older brother. The sulky girl, remember? Like every second-born I know, she needs someone constantly breathing down her neck,” Gabriel joked, turning to retrieve the glass of water and hand it to Sam. He was glad he had managed to distract his feverish guest, but he had to make sure Sam started replenishing the fluids he had lost over the course of the day. “A sip of water? I added some sugar to it. It might help you avoid fainting again.”</p>
<p>Although reluctantly, Sam agreed, contenting himself with a verbal rematch that was only falsely angry. Actually, the back and forth with Gabriel never stopped amusing him.</p>
<p>“Like every firstborn I know, you’re terrible.”</p>
<p>Gabriel chuckled and the thermometer announced that it had completed its analysis.</p>
<p>“Can't argue with that,” the thirty-one-year-old acknowledged, letting Sam take out the tool and hand it to him so that he could read the response. “Ouch.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“101.5 F. It was to be expected, I suppose,” Gabe sighed, leaving the plastic stick on the coffee table before looking Sam straight in the eye with a whole new seriousness. “Listen, do you feel like putting something in your stomach? I wouldn't want to give you some paracetamol right away, you haven't eaten anything for too many hours. By the way,” he froze for a moment, bowing his head to one side and assuming a questioning expression which was very similar to the one Castiel sported whenever Dean made a movie reference that he couldn’t get, “exactly how long has it been since you last ate something?”</p>
<p>With his back pressed against the back of the sofa and Gabriel's side leaned against his abdomen in a position that turned out to be curiously intimate, Sam settled better under the blanket and hesitated for a few seconds too long before confessing in a whisper: “Well, I had dinner last night.”</p>
<p>As expected, Gabriel raised his eyebrows, concerned.</p>
<p>“Didn't you have breakfast this morning?”</p>
<p>“I never eat anything right before jogging.”</p>
<p>Deducing from Gabriel's startled expression, in his vocabulary that statement must have been the equivalent of a blasphemy. Why would anyone in their right mind have to give up all the sweetness of a continental breakfast? To him, Sam's training routine must have looked like the senseless waste of a great opportunity.</p>
<p>“Nothing at all?” he insisted, as if he really couldn't understand it.</p>
<p>“No,” Sam chirped.</p>
<p>“Why didn't you tell me before? No wonder you collapsed.”</p>
<p>Although there was not even a hint of resentment in his voice, only pure worry, Sam looked down at the parquet and tried to put a remedy to it in the only way he knew: “I’m sorr-...”</p>
<p>“Nuh-uh,” Gabriel, however, held him back, raising a finger to oppose, and when Sam looked for his eyes again he recognized the same cheerful spark as always, barely scratched by apprehension. “The same rule applies to apologies, not only to thanks. I have a pantry full of those and you have zero reason to offer me more.”</p>
<p>Sam got infected by his good humor and gave a half smile in spite of the chills consuming his bones.</p>
<p>“So what, if I apologize too much you’re going to withdraw your dinner invitation in order to punish me? I thought the point of this whole thing was getting me to eat.”</p>
<p>Positively impressed by a reply that sounded new to him, told by Sam, Gabriel withdrew just before sighing dramatically and raising a hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead with the wet cloth before turning it to the cool side. Sam felt immensely grateful.</p>
<p>“You are incredibly talkative for someone who has just come down with a bang-up flu, you know that?” Gabriel joked.</p>
<p>“I don't have the flu,” Sam murmured, closing his eyelids for a moment to better enjoy the pleasant cold sensation on his forehead. “It's just a touch of fever.”</p>
<p>“Oh, is it now? No headache, chills, general malaise?” Gabriel teased him, since he knew the answer even before Sam made it obvious with a guilty face. “Just as I thought. Okay, tough guy, I definitely have to insist that you get some food in your system. I'm sorry for you, but tonight the menu offers nothing but a rustic barley soup.”</p>
<p>“I like soups,” Sam muttered, feeling warm again for reasons that went far beyond the flu.</p>
<p>“That’s great, because I cooked up a storm,” Gabriel announced happily.</p>
<p>When Gabriel stood up, Sam found out that he wanted him to stay there, warm him up and make him feel protected in a way he couldn't quite explain. For a moment, following a suggestion clearly deriving from the flu, he thought of asking Gabriel to sit next to him, not to go away. Fortunately, the other man spoke first, or Sam wouldn't have been able to look him in the face again. What on earth was he thinking?</p>
<p>“While it finishes cooking, I'm going to get you some more blankets. Don't move from there, alright? I'm going upstairs, it’s going to take just a minute. If you feel like fainting again, let out a scream, will you?”</p>
<p>“Yessir,” Sam promised with a feeble smile, cheered by the speed of the man’s gab.</p>
<p>Gabriel didn’t leave him alone before bringing him a cup of peppermint tea – apparently, he almost always had a thermos of that stuff ready just in case – nor before wetting the washcloth with fresh water and putting it on Sam’s forehead again. Then, doing everything to convince himself that Sam would have been fine on his own for the short time it would have taken him to find something to keep him warm, the thirty-one-year-old walked briskly to the first floor.</p>
<p>He had already got the blankets, but he still had to figure out what his intentions were with his ex-best friend's boyfriend, with the boy he was trying to save from an abusive relationship of the worst kind – his body and mind did nothing but send him contradictory clues about it – when his smartphone, confined into the back pocket of his pants, emitted two short vibrations.</p>
<p>Gabriel stopped on the threshold of his bedroom to check his Whatsapp.</p>
<p>
  <em>From: Doctor C. Novak</em>
</p>
<p><em>H</em><em>ello</em><em>, Gabriel. How's Sam doing? Dean spoke to him on the phone,</em> <em> said </em> <em>S</em><em>am</em> <em> s</em><em>ounded</em> <em> a </em> <em>little weird</em> <em> and asked me to t</em><em>ext</em> <em> you. Yes, now he knows. Please don't ask me about it.</em></p>
<p>Gabriel tucked the folded blankets under his left arm so he could type a quick reply.</p>
<p>
  <em> To: Doctor C. Novak </em>
</p>
<p><em>Good evening, Dr. Novak. Sam spent a couple of hours o</em><em>utside in the cold</em> <em> and now has a s</em><em>light</em> <em> fever. I thought he could sleep here tonight, if that's okay with you. I have a h</em><em>unch that</em> <em> he's in the mood f</em><em>or</em> <em> o</em><em>pening up</em><em>.</em></p>
<p>He was about to add something similar to "I can take care of him", but at the last moment he thought better of it, sent the message as it was and put the phone back in his pocket. Thirty seconds later he was standing next to Sam again and letting his dignity be ripped off by that exhausted look of his, a look that was made even more damn adorable by Sam’s grateful smile, his earth, clouds and sea-colored eyes glistening with fever, his messed up hair and everything that Sam Winchester represented and that threatened to bleed Gabriel’s soul dry with sighs.</p>
<p>
  <em>Stop acting like a teenager, Hale. He is not Hugh Grant and you are not in a romantic comedy. Cut it out. P</em>
  <em>ull yourself together</em>
  <em>, for c</em>
  <em>rying out loud.</em>
</p>
<p>Gabriel had just started moving towards the stove when his smartphone alerted him of the arrival of a new message.</p>
<p>
  <em>From: Doctor C. Novak</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You have my blessing. Dean is silent, so I guess he agrees.</em>
</p>
<p>Sam wasn't paying attention to him, so Gabriel took the time to answer.</p>
<p>
  <em>To: Doctor C. Novak</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm sorry you fought over this, Doctor. I'll do my best with Sam.</em>
</p>
<p>He was quite proud of how he had managed to hide the emotions that were flipping his stomach upside down, at least via Whatsapp. As for the interactions with Sam, Gabriel figured it was a whole different story. He didn't have an accurate picture of how he appeared in the eyes of his guest, but he had certainly begun to see how his newly discovered feelings were shining through and that realizing grew every time, at the end of one of his stupidly sarcastic sentences, Sam stretched his lips in a smile or even laughed. Christ, that boy sure knew how to make your legs and heart unsteady.</p>
<p>Gabriel was pouring two generous portions of barley soup into as many turmeric-colored bowls when the screen of his smartphone – now abandoned in a corner of the counter – lit up to show him the newest message.</p>
<p>
  <em>From: Doctor C. Novak</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I know. Don't worry about us. Keep me updated, please. Have a good dinner and goodnight.</em>
</p>
<p>Gabriel paused for a moment, after putting the pot away. Did Dr. Novak know? Could he have guessed that Gabriel did not see merely the object of a promise to carry out when he looked at Sam, but he had begun to fantasize about what could have happened, about what the two of them could have been? And was he okay with it? Had he at least wondered or had the urgency to get Sam away from Luc got the better of everything else, leaving him no time nor space for other hypotheses about the future?</p>
<p>While he retrieved two spoons from the top drawer and dipped them into the two bowls of soup, Gabriel called himself an idiot for letting his imagination fly so high. Certainly what mattered at that point were not his stupid love dreams, nurtured by years of Broadway plays and musicals. The priority – <em>his</em> priority – at that moment, was the boy lying on his sofa, hungry and victim of a flu that he had caught while waiting for him, seeking his help. Even though he hadn't really texted those precise words to him, what Dr. Novak wanted to tell him was that Sam was the priority. And Gabriel had to focus on the priority.</p>
<p>
  <em>Mother of God</em>
  <em>, t</em>
  <em>hat’s all I ask.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Gabriel James Hale, calm. </em> <em>D</em><em>own. </em> <em>I</em><em>mmediately</em><em>.</em></p>
<p><em>Well, great! All I needed </em> <em>right now </em> <em>was a split personality.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck. I'm screwed.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, I will admit it: (finally) I got carried away with Sabriel's romance. I just hope I made some hearts happy with this chapter. And well, I am not done with this yet 😏</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Deeper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>For once, Sam and Gabriel were sitting on the same sofa.</p>
<p>After placing a jug of water, two cloth napkins, an extra glass for himself and the bread basket – next to the fruit bowl with its inevitable apricots – on the coffee table, Gabriel had started to sit on the opposite sofa, but Sam had chosen that moment to muster some energy and put his stubbornness back into play. Holding tightly to his chest the three blankets he had gladly accepted to be spread over him, he had crawled to sit on the left side of the sofa and insisted he didn't need that much space just for himself.</p>
<p>Gabriel’s skeptical gaze had then considered his tired eyes, the veil of sweat that covered his nose and cheeks and the effort that the boy had done just to go from lying to sitting. But finally he had given up with a shrug and handed him one of the two steaming bowls before settling down next to him with one arm resting on the back of the sofa, one of his legs bent, dinner on his lap and his face turned towards his stubborn guest.</p>
<p>Sam seemed to wonder why Gabriel was chuckling under his breath, but in the end, after spending a few seconds blowing on the first spoonful of soup, he chose a different question.</p>
<p>“Do you always eat on the sofa?” he teased his host, showing off a smile which was quite similar to his.</p>
<p>Gabriel chuckled again, realizing that, indeed, on both occasions when Sam had stayed for dinner – leaving alone all the afternoon teas they had, since he had lost track of those – he had succumbed to laziness and served dinner on the low table of the living room.</p>
<p>“Nah,” he declared with a touch of well-balanced irony, settling himself better against the backrest before throwing a conspiratorial look to Sam. “Only when I happen to have distinguished guests.”</p>
<p>The twenty-six-year-old reacted with another fatigued laugh and shook his head in amusement. For a few minutes, then, they ate in silence, with the only company of the stereo sound perpetually on, even if Gabriel occasionally paused to observe the younger man. The half fainting he had witnessed and the discovery of that flu had worried him, but the fact that Sam was eating so willingly could only console his vocation as a protector.</p>
<p>“This soup is so good,” Sam commented once he had almost reached the bottom of the bowl, with all the enthusiasm he could afford with a fever. “How did you make it?”</p>
<p>“Oh, it's easier than coffee. I cut leek, celery, courgettes, carrots and potatoes into small cubes, I put them to cook in a pot with water for an hour, then I add the barley and salt and let them on the stove for another half hour,” Gabriel happily poured out, glad to be able to share one of his greatest passions. “Oh, and in the end I mash half the potatoes, so I get this creamy thing, see? This is the basic recipe, then I add all the spices that I want. In this one there’s a good deal of curry, as you can taste.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded, please.</p>
<p>“I love curry,” he said, and then put the last spoonful in his mouth with gusto.</p>
<p>“That makes two of us,” Gabriel smiled, giving him a nod when the boy's eyes emerged from the bowl. “Would you like more? There’s plenty left.”</p>
<p>“No, thank you. I'm fine,” Sam declined, raising his hand in surrender before reaching out to the table in order to leave the empty bowl there.</p>
<p>Gabriel did not have time to take it out of his hand before the useless effort was already made and a moan left the young man's lips, but he twisted his mouth when Sam collapsed against the back of the sofa and turned his face to the ceiling with his brow furrowed and his jaw set in a pained expression.</p>
<p>“Okay, then I think the time has come for you to indulge yourself with that dose of paracetamol we were talking about earlier.”</p>
<p>“I could use that,” Sam admitted, finding the strength to support half a smile.</p>
<p>“Great. It's coming,” Gabriel nodded, jumping off the sofa to reach the medicine stock he kept in the cabinet next to the refrigerator.</p>
<p>Not even a minute later he was back with a sachet that he emptied into Sam's still half-full glass and with a teaspoon that he used to make sure that all the grains of the generic drug had dissolved before handing the glass to his guest. Sam crossed his legs, adjusted the blankets around his body, suppressing a shudder, and accepted the medicine with a low but sincere “Thank you”. As he went back to sit next to him, Gabriel kept an eye on him. Not so much to make sure that he drank every last drop of the antipyretic, but because he had begun to suspect that the situation had reached a deadlock and the circumstances needed a little push.</p>
<p>“Listen, Sam,” Gabriel began once the twenty-six-year-old had given the empty glass back to him and he had placed it back on the coffee table. “As honored as I am that you enjoyed my latest culinary mess so much, I doubt you stood outside for two hours, freezing on the steps out front, for some soup. I think I understood that you would like to share something. And I don't want to force you in any way, you know, I can shut my mouth and put on a DVD if that’s what you would prefer right now,” he hastened to add, fearing Sam's frailty could make him slip away. “But know that when you want, if you want, I'm here. You can tell me what you want to say and you can also ask me what you want to know, obviously. In this house the rule of balance applies, but you already know this.”</p>
<p>Sam responded to his benevolent expression with a tight smile, starting to play with the fingers of the hands he had collected in his lap. Gabriel knew he had hit the mark when he saw him take a deep breath before starting to speak.</p>
<p>“I like that. That rule of yours. I find it comforting,” he just whispered at first. But then, while avoiding meeting Gabriel's eyes, he moved towards the center of the matter: “This morning, when I left the house, I needed... I think I need to talk with someone,” he confessed, shrugging as if to get rid of the discomfort that acknowledgment bore, although it was nothing new. “And Luc isn’t talking to me, he hasn't since Sunday, so…”</p>
<p>When he realized that that sentence could have given the wrong impression of why he had sought refuge at Gabriel's house, it was already too late to be able to take it back. Sam looked up suddenly, ready to be slapped right in the face by his host’s disappointment, but he didn't even have time to think of a way to remedy that he noticed the most peculiar thing: Gabriel's expression had not changed. He didn't seem to think Sam had just told him that he was nothing more than a consolation prize. He just looked like he was listening, understanding and welcoming as always. He seemed to understand the tangle of emotions that had led Sam to say those words and understand that they were not meant to be an offense to him. Quite the contrary, actually.</p>
<p>When Gabriel spoke, his tone was calm and, even if you could recognize a shadow in it, it was that of the topics that he and Sam had already addressed the previous Sunday.</p>
<p>“What would you like to talk about? What I told you about Luc the other day? Or something about you?”</p>
<p>It was a direct question that, at other times, Sam would have dodged like a curve ball. If he needed more clues to clarify how desperate he was, the choice to answer Gabriel without hiding would have been a self-evident signal.</p>
<p>“The second one. I think. Or maybe a little bit of everything. I'm not sure, I… since we talked about Luc's parents and my father, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Above all talking about my father has… brought up other memories and… I don't know,” he concluded confusedly, closing his eyelids and weakly shaking his head.</p>
<p>“Aren't these the kind of topics you would like to talk about with your brother?” Gabriel suggested, pretending to pick that sentence like it was nothing, while in reality he was testing the degree of discomfort that had led Sam to turn to him, to him and to no one else.</p>
<p>Sam opened his eyes and bit his lower lip hard before looking for the other's intent irises and shaking his head.</p>
<p>“What I keep thinking about is… it's something Dean doesn't know about.”</p>
<p>The tremor at the bottom of his throat was enough for Gabriel to deduce the rest of the sentence, which was that this was not the right time for Sam to share that particular memory with Dean.</p>
<p>Putting two and two together based on what Sam had told him – a strict father, an ever respectful older son and a second son, Sam, who had refused to take every word his old man said as the Gospel truth, but who admired his older brother and loved him nevertheless –, Gabriel sensed that the twenty-six-year-old's reluctance derived from the fear of ruining their father’s image in Dean’s eyes.</p>
<p>Of course it was not an ideal situation, but if that meant Sam was going to confide in him, Gabriel could work with that. Anyway, he hugged his right knee and took it closer to his chest and nodded thoughtfully, taking a few seconds before replying.</p>
<p>“I'll tell you what I think. If you’re interested.”</p>
<p>Sam looked at him as if wondering if he was crazy to think that might not be the case: “Sure.”</p>
<p>Gabriel took a deep breath and looked him up and down so as not to miss even a blink of an eye.</p>
<p>“I think you want or need, choose the one you see fit, to tell me more about your father. And I think that, in return, I could tell you something about me, just for a change,” he proposed in a cautious but necessarily pleasant tone. He wasn't going to sell off his nervousness; not so soon, not for so little. “I have an idea that your interest did not stop at Luc’s past, especially given what happened with him when you tried to talk with him about it. I have the feeling that you are curious about me too. Tell me if I'm wrong.”</p>
<p>“You're not wrong,” Sam swallowed without leaving his eyes, proving incredibly responsive in digging up the memories that had been haunting him for days. “I have been wondering about you since you said that sentence… something about you and Luc having survived a critical situation.”</p>
<p>At that point Gabriel cracked a smile of glaring authenticity.</p>
<p>“So since the day we met?”</p>
<p>“Well, yes,” Sam recognized, embarrassed. “And now I know what Luc survived. But you…”</p>
<p>“I am still a wild card,” Gabriel concluded, nodding as he pursed his lips and prayed that his apprehension had not already begun to show itself. “All right. It seems we both have something to bring to the table. We are in an optimal situation to play. But first I need to ask you a favor.”</p>
<p>“Do you want me to take the whiskey?” Sam suggested, managing to make him smile but getting a denial in reply.</p>
<p>“No, maybe not. As long as it doesn’t bother you, I’d rather ask you to start first this time too.”</p>
<p>Sam shrugged, investigating that new, light but perceptible tension on the other man's face.</p>
<p>“Okay, I can do it. May I ask you why?”</p>
<p>The answer took a couple of seconds longer than expected and Gabriel struggled not to look down as he admitted some of his fear.</p>
<p>“Because once I’ll have told you what I want to share with you, it will be very difficult to move on to another topic.”</p>
<p>Sam just raised his eyebrows, cautious, as much as he wanted to try to lighten the atmosphere: “Do you think we could stay here and talk about it all night?”</p>
<p>“I managed to fill almost twenty years of therapy with it. One night is nothing,” Gabriel snorted, accepting his invitation to lightness and settling himself better against the cushions of the sofa before his gentle smile re-emerged: “So. What are these memories that won't leave you alone?”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Life got busier in the last few weeks, but I love being here once again with these two.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. June 29, 2006</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm finally back! I couldn't wait to let you back into the story with me 🌻</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Caught off guard, Sam hastened to clear his throat.</p>
<p>“I think I have to make a preliminary remark,” he declared, only after sorting things out in his mind.</p>
<p>“Everything you want. I’m listening.”</p>
<p>“Well, needless to say... both my brother and I like men,” he muttered awkwardly.</p>
<p>“I figured as much,” Gabriel nodded with a good-natured smile, only because Sam seemed to need a motion from him before he could continue.</p>
<p>“Okay, well,” the young man laughed nervously. “Even in this, Dean... Dean has always been very…”</p>
<p>“Bold?” Gabriel came to his aid, raising an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Yes, quite,” Sam agreed gratefully. “Outgoing, dynamic, relaxed. As soon as he could, as soon as Mom and Dad gave him permission to, he started going out at night. He must have been fourteen. Sure, for the first two years he had a curfew at 10 p.m, then at 11 p.m., and before he graduated nights out were just for Saturdays, but he... he didn't waste a lot of those staying at home, that's it. He has always been a socially active kind of guy, so much more than me. And if at first he went out with his friends, it didn't take him long to start getting busy with girls.”</p>
<p>“Oh, females,” Gabriel commented at that point. His left elbow was resting on the back of the sofa, his chin on his hand and he was now scrutinizing Sam with raised eyebrows and a face that was the embodiment of the most insolent sarcasm. “How amazingly audacious. Please do go on.”</p>
<p>Sam was grateful for how his irony could, once again, make him giggle and cheer him up. For a moment, the youngest man was able not to wonder if Gabriel was masking some kind of discomfort.</p>
<p>“Yes, well, after a short period of field testing he understood his true calling, switched to boys and never looked back,” his guest reassured him a moment later.</p>
<p>“Hm. What timeline are we talking about?”</p>
<p>Sam had to think about it for a few seconds, bewildered but amused by the track change.</p>
<p>“I'm pretty sure he gave his first kiss to a boy in 10<sup>th</sup> grade.”</p>
<p>“Hm,” Gabriel repeated, shrugging like an unimpressed football coach. “Average timing.”</p>
<p>Sam chuckled and did not refrain from teasing him, as it was clear that Gabriel wanted.</p>
<p>“What about you? When did you kiss a boy for the first time?”</p>
<p>“April 7, 1993. It was a Wednesday,” the interviewee announced without the slightest hesitation. “Oliver Whitman. Hazel eyes, a hideous bowl cut and some rather adorable freckles on his cheeks.”</p>
<p>“You still remember the day? The exact date?” Sam emphasized, impressed, and Gabriel grinned with evident satisfaction.</p>
<p>“I remember the place and time too, for that matter. We were at the high school football pitch, dirtier than ever after training, and it must have been around six in the afternoon. There was that warm orange light, you know, the one that precedes sunset when days start getting longer, towards summer.”</p>
<p>Sam stared at him for a few more seconds, trying to figure out if Gabriel was making fun of him.</p>
<p>“Jesus,” he murmured at last, when he was convinced that the thirty-one-year-old's eyes were shining with authentic memories. “Looks like it was a memorable kiss.”</p>
<p>“Well, not so much. At least not for the best reasons, you know. Of course it was my first and all, but...,” Gabriel pretended to get bitter, with an unimpressed grimace. “Too much heat. Too much tongue. You know what kids are like at that age, they want everything right away.”</p>
<p>Sam soon found out he couldn't stop smiling.</p>
<p>“And who was the first to go for it, you or him?”</p>
<p>“Me, of course. "All and now" was my motto, at fourteen,” Gabriel confessed cheerfully, caressing his cheeks, that his light beard covered, while enjoying the amused curl taken by Sam's lips. Immediately after, however, he leaned slightly towards him to urge him: “Tell me about <em>your</em> first kiss. I know you want to tell me more about your brother, but you got me curious.”</p>
<p>Reaching out to the table, Sam asked him if he could pour him a little more water and pass him the glass. Then he took a sip and basked in that passing circumstance. Exchanging the closest things to secrets with Gabriel had such mild and pleasant nuances, they reminded him of the afternoons of his childhood.</p>
<p>“My first kiss to a girl or a boy?”</p>
<p>“Oh, so heroism runs in the family!” Gabriel gloated, pretending to be shocked by such impudence. - “Since you decided to brag, now I demand to hear about both. Come on.”</p>
<p>Arranging the blankets over his shoulders, Sam gladly obliged him, feeling only a hint of embarrassment – not even a so annoying amount – following his words.</p>
<p>“She was a schoolmate of mine,” he said. “We were in the same Advanced Physics class as juniors and I invited her to the school dance. Just because Dean had bet twenty dollars that no girl would have said yes. Her name was Jessica… or maybe Sarah? I don’t really remember.”</p>
<p>“Ouch,” Gabriel commented, gritting his teeth and collapsing again with his cheek on the palm of his hand. “If these are the premises, I don't want to know anything about the kiss. Why don't you tell me about your first boy, instead? That must be a good memory. I can almost feel it.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded, feeling nostalgia hitting his stomach even though time had masked the melancholy that was tied to the memory of his first relationship – and of his first breakup – by disguising it as normality.</p>
<p>“Tristan. My first boyfriend, in college. I was eighteen.”</p>
<p>This time, Gabriel smiled without any hint of sarcasm.</p>
<p>“And how was it?”</p>
<p>Sam chuckled happily, meeting the spark of curiosity in the thirty-one-year-old's eyes.</p>
<p>“That same night I lost my virginity, so you tell me.”</p>
<p>“Whoa, okay. Did you want to shut me up? You win,” Gabriel retreated, then joined in the other man’s laughter. “I won't say a word, ever again. Go on.”</p>
<p>“Allow me to doubt that,” Sam teased him cheerfully.</p>
<p>He ran a hand through his hair and sighed only once he had spent more time than was socially tolerable looking at the host’s smile – why was the adjective he would have used to describe it <em> e</em><em>nraptured</em>, if not outright <em> e</em><em>cstatic</em>?</p>
<p>“What was I saying? Oh, right,” he finally picked up the thread, pinching his nose with his thumb and index finger. “Well, what I meant is that, speaking of homosexuality, Dean has always faced bullies with his head held high. At fifteen he began getting involved in the initiatives of LGBT associations and at the same time he joined the wrestling team that our father praised so much. I have to say that at the time he found his one-night stands in both places,” he remarked with a tired smile. “The fact that he was ready to punch anyone who found the guts to make fun of him for his sexual orientation caused him some trouble with our parents, but only because they didn’t like him resorting to violence. In fact, our father always admired him for the way he handled those issues starting from a very young age. Dad never had any kind of homophobic behavior towards him. He accepted Dean's homosexuality instantly, the night my brother said at the dinner table, almost by chance, that he had broken up with an Emma to be with an Adrian.”</p>
<p>When he stopped talking and turned back to Gabriel, he saw that there was esteem in his eyes.</p>
<p>“Your brother was lucky. Who wouldn't want a smooth coming out like that?” he considered. “Take my mother, for example. She has always loved me dearly and at first she seemed happy that I had told her, but then she had some kind of panic attack and she cried for two hours straight because she "would have never had a grandchild".”</p>
<p>“Which is not necessarily the case,” Sam considered quietly, thinking of the baby Dean and Castiel were waiting for.</p>
<p>“Which is not necessarily the case,” Gabriel agreed. “Anyway, I still think that my sister wouldn’t have been born without my coming out.”</p>
<p>Despite everything, another smile escaped Sam’s lips. The ease with which Gabriel revealed those random corners of his life to him was too sunny not to cheer his spirit up.</p>
<p>“Sounds encouraging,” he joked.</p>
<p>Gabriel shrugged lightly.</p>
<p>“If you want my side of the story, my mom needed to console herself with another whining little thing before it was too late for her biological clock. She let me choose my sister's name and I was happy with that. Don't get me wrong, though: I love them both madly, they're great.”</p>
<p>Sam waited for a moment, believing Gabriel would add one or more sentences about his father to complete the family picture, but nothing like that happened.</p>
<p>“Claire is such a nice name,” he said then, before lowering his gaze to the fold with which the sheets had rolled up around his right knee and adding in a whisper: “I would have liked a coming out like Dean’s too.”</p>
<p>Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gabriel frown, confused.</p>
<p>“Didn’t you have one? I had taken it for granted, since you had the same parents.”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head slowly, agreeing to reflect himself in those bright eyes of his to cling to their exuberance and get to the end of the story.</p>
<p>“I realized I am gay when I met Tristan at Stanford. I hadn't had any real experience before, not even with girls, if we don't include those school dances. But even during those so called dates nothing serious had ever happened. I had always felt like it wasn’t meant to, not like that, and it turned out to be right when I understood I was into men.”</p>
<p>Before proceeding, he swallowed and wet his lips. He had no reason to pretend he was fine in front of Gabriel, not anymore. Whether it was his on body or in his mind, the host had already proved that he could read even the slightest signs of his discomfort.</p>
<p>“I confided to my father that I had a boyfriend during the Christmas holidays of my first year of college. It was 2001, I was eighteen. My brother already knew, because obviously he had been so insistent on the phone that at last I had told him about Tristan. He had even met him when he had come to visit me. I told my mother as soon as I arrived at the airport, that Christmas Eve, and she... she already knew, of course, because she is my mother and apparently that was enough for her to figure it out years before. And wait for me to tell her when I would have been ready,” he whispered, as the memory of that particular hug from Mary warmed his heart and prepared him for the next part. “My father... I faced him alone, one of those days, when it was just the two of us at home. On December 28<sup>th</sup>, in the morning. The next day I was going back to California to celebrate New Year's Eve with Tristan and some friends, so I told him. I told him that I had fallen in love with a boy and that we had been together for a couple of months. And he... he…”</p>
<p>“Breathe, Sam. There’s no rush,” Gabriel encouraged him in a soft voice, placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady in the present. “What did your father do?”</p>
<p>The twenty-six-year-old listened to him and closed his eyelids, allowing himself a moment to focus only on his own breathing.</p>
<p>“He laughed in my face,” he then revealed. “And he scolded me, he told me that mine was just a miserable attempt to... he accused me of behaving like that just to copy my brother. As according to him I always did, actually, since I was a child, except for the things that really mattered, the things for which I would have done well to follow Dean's example. Apparently, being gay wasn't one of those things,” he continued, swallowing the memory of the pain of that rejection regardless of the shock on Gabriel's face. If he had allowed himself to dwell on it, he would no longer have had the strength to go on, to take out everything. “I don’t know, maybe... maybe he too thought he was saying goodbye to his last chance to have grandchildren and got nervous. I have no idea. The fact is that of all the accusations he made against me in my whole life, of all his attempts to make me feel inadequate, this was the one that hurt me the most. Do you think it’s stupid?” he added, finally turning to Gabriel's eyes and smiling in a way that looked awfully like he was starting to feel tears stinging his eyes. “I confessed my greatest weakness to him and he laughed at me, he told me I didn't even know who I was. What kind of father does something like that when his son comes out?”</p>
<p>Even when Sam stopped talking, Gabriel remained prey of a stunned and respectful silence in the face of the most sincere representation he had ever achieved of what tormented the young man.</p>
<p><em> Don't hold i</em><em>t </em> <em> back, Sam</em>, he wanted to beg him. <em>Cry. Y</em><em>ell</em><em>, if you have to. Just don't keep it inside anymore. </em></p>
<p>But Sam didn't even shed a single tear, much less raised his voice. Rather, before Gabriel could even push himself beyond a squeeze on his shoulder, he retreated a little, sniffed and shook his head feverishly, as if trying to delete a mistake – or at least, he seemed to think those anecdotes about the controversial relationship with his father that had slipped out of his mouth were such.</p>
<p>“Forgive me,” he mumbled immediately afterwards. “I shouldn't have, I’m sorry. I'm an idiot.”</p>
<p>Given the speed with which he was returning to take refuge in himself, Gabriel hastened to intervene, moving his hand from his shoulder to his arm with resolute care.</p>
<p>“No, Sam, you’re not,” he contradicted him. “Letting off steam is an excellent thing. I'm glad you did it.”</p>
<p>Sam gave him an astonished look, as if he didn't quite know how to decipher neither his words nor his benevolent seriousness. He took a few seconds to pull himself together, but then, to Gabriel's relief, he gave up trying to stem the river in flood of his anguish and allowed the words to flow freely again.</p>
<p>“I left. That day, I packed my bags and left without even answering him. I was furious,” the twenty-six year old vibrated, squeezing his own left wrist with the fingers of his right hand until his knuckles whitened. “So furious that I swore to myself that he would have never seen me again. And I stayed true to my word. No matter how much Dean or my mother insisted, I didn't want to give him another chance, a chance to fix things. I was angry with him for a long time, Gabe.”</p>
<p>Faced with the disconsolate tone with which Sam pronounced his name, Gabriel felt himself sinking as if at the sound of a badly answered plea. He had to make an extra effort to keep all the pieces together and not collapse.</p>
<p>“And are you still?” he asked softly, pushing Sam towards what he needed to confide him.</p>
<p>“No,” the boy murmured, swallowing as he looked up at him. “I stopped on June 29, 2006.”</p>
<p>A hint of a smile touched Gabriel's lips as he retraced a scene he had experienced a moment before.</p>
<p>“You still remember the day. The exact date,” he observed, stealing his guest's joke.</p>
<p>Sam nodded with an exasperating slowness, as if all of a sudden an immeasurable exhaustion had descended on him and his muscles were refusing to cooperate.</p>
<p>He remembered everything about that day. The anxiety about the oral part of the exam that was so close to him, the taste of lemon toothpaste on his tongue, the outrageous delay of the bus, Nathaniel's good luck kiss, the sweat that had glued his hair to his neck as he waited to be called and questioned by the professor or by one of his assistants. And then the phone call, Dean's voice choking on words, on the verge of tears. The fall, the darkness, the emptiness. The deafening silence that had accompanied the truth.</p>
<p>It was with an indecent effort that he managed to finish what he had started.</p>
<p>“It was the day Dean called me during my Advanced Criminal Law exam to tell me that Dad hadn't survived his second heart attack.”</p>
<p>John Winchester was dead. Sam was twenty-three, he hadn't seen his father in five years and would have never seen him again. There would have never been a next time.</p>
<p> </p>
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